


Kingdom of the fallen

by Kraffslol



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Body Paint, Eventual Fluff, Free Orcs, Gondor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mordor, Nazgul - Freeform, Nazgûl | Ringwraiths, Non-Sexual Slavery, Orc Culture, Orcs, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War of the Ring, Protectiveness, Rebellion, Redemption, Sexual Abuse, Slave Trade, Slavery, War, War Paint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kraffslol/pseuds/Kraffslol
Summary: As a ranger of Gondor, Talion was slaughtered on the Black Gate with everyone he ever loved.However, Talion did not find peace in death. He was cursed, and resurrected, by a powerful wraith Celebrimbor, who reforged him into an undying spirit of vengeance. With their powers combined they dominated Mordor and forged a new ring to break Sauron himself.This, however did not come to be. Talion was betrayed by Celebrimbor and Eltariel, refusing to die and instead choosing to become one of the nine, preventing a horrible power from rising with his sacrifice.After being tortured by the ninth ring, he is finally offered peace of death and given back his feelings that he sacrificed to the shadow wars, including guild. So how was he ever supposed to resist a call for help, even if an unusual one?
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Talion (Shadow of Mordor), Dirhael - Relationship, Ioreth/Talion (Shadow of Mordor)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 124





	1. Reborn from ash

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Makes You Come Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634968) by [LightningStarborne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStarborne/pseuds/LightningStarborne), [yourlocalbirb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalbirb/pseuds/yourlocalbirb). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo... I've replayed the Middle-earth game series and I'm feeling quite sad. Then, one thing came to another and I decided to write a fic where my dear lill' orc captains get a chance at a free life.

At first, Talion had to shield his eyes from the warm light in front of him, too used to the darkness to realise that the light did not burn him, rather enveloped and welcomed him with gentle care. Talion looked right ahead, hearing the voices of the fallen, but this time they weren't pleading, they were calling him to join them, to finally be at peace, to join those mourned in eternal bliss, this... is his only chance.

As Talion went to take a step forward, he heard something he never expected. Where has he heard that voice before?

"...In these difficult times, you were the Lord we needed boss, down to earth and real. You showed us what you've learned in life - the value of even our miserable lives and the importance of the simple things. You were humble about you're mistakes, but so bold in your will to free us and show us how to love ourselves once more. That's the example we pledge to uphold. We'd be happier if you were here to guide us again boss... We- we-..."

The rough voice halted and a heavy sigh was heard, as if trying to find the right words to say when Talion felt a ghost of a touch on his hand.

"We know you wanted this from the very start boss, but we thought... we hoped that, in the end, you would see us as your people and guide us as the king we always saw you as."

Talion felt stunned to the deepest part of his being to the point where he dared not move an inch in case it would somehow break the spell. In what felt like an eternity he listened to every voice that came sailing on the gentle breeze.

"...you truly listened boss, not like the other black lords..."

"...you were the only one who ever saw us for what we could be..."

"...remember, that we would move heaven and earth for you..."

"...is there a way we can ever rise and be at least a fraction of what , in the end, you were to us..."

"...we don't know what to do now boss..."

"PLEASE, boss, we need you..."

"... sometimes, the memory of you makes me... .... ...sad..."

"...you could still come back boss, you do have the power..."

"Would you return for them?"

The new presence surprised him slightly.

"Shelob?"

"Would you return after all that happened?"

Talion turned around to be greeted by the spider herself in her true form.

"I-..."

"You don't have to answer the call. They'll understand."

"Even if I could, I'd only return to bleed out again. There's nothing left to keep me alive."

The spider shifted slightly.

"What if there is?"

"... How?"

"I cannot say."

Talion looks back into the light.

"This is my only chance, isn't it?"

Shelob looked almost mournful.

"I'm dying Talion, Middle-earth still needs someone to keep the balance and the orcs need someone to lead them."

Talion closes his eyes.

"I ask you once more, Talion of the Black Gate, how much are you willing to sacrifice? ... After all that's happened, after all that you went through, will you answer the call once more?"

A moment of relative silence followed.

"You're dying?"

Shelob smiled tiredly.

"Sacrifices must be made, and if my death means determination for those who destroyed the One than so be it."

When Talion faced her once more, she was in her more human form, her head split open, but not bleeding.

"We may have fulfilled our purposes, but unlike me you can still do more. With the last of my essence, I can give you unending life once more."

Talion looked away, deep in thought.

"How much are you willing to sacrifice... for them?"

Talion straightened up in front of Shelob, adjusting his armour before looking her, for the first time, straight in eyes, determination burning within them.

"Everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, if anybody could instruct me on how to make custom tags, that'd be great. Have a beautiful day :)


	2. Not unlife, but undeath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minas Morgul is under siege once more

Orcs screamed in pain clutching their grievous wounds as bows twang sending snakes of deaths into the neverending army of uruk. Despite Sauron's defeat not even a week ago, some of the orc captains didn't run like the rest of the savages and rather decided to "settle" in Minas Ithil, forcing the men to attack their own city. The walls stood high defiantly in face of such ferious siege still reflecting some of the green light of the undead flames, although seemingly more lively somehow.

"The battering ram is ready captain."

Baranor eyed the soldier in a quite tired manner.

"You may proceed, soldier."

Baranor slowly leaned over the city map, studying the plans of their current offence strategies. Being a captain in the Human Resistance of Mordor, as were the members of this military group calling themselves, was strangely different from the other groups he has been a part of. In the Minas Ithil guard as well as with the Vanishing brothers, the different ranks given to him felt more like a fact that came with time than a reward.

The people of the Resistance were a mishmash of human refugees, some Ithilian soldiers that managed to survive all those years in Mordor and some Gondorian soldiers who couldn't stand to look at the adversity the people of Mordor were recieving from the men of the West. To be chosen as one of the leaders by these people left a great feeling of pride and accomplishment within Baranor, only prompting him to feel more protective of the people he led.

Catapults fired from both sides of the main bridge furiously trying to gain the advantage. The ram battered at the gate, oil ran down it as men ran in anguish as they were burnt from the magma substance. They screamed until they couldn't until they rested into nothingness. Orcs, however, furiously held their ground. Despite battling for almost a week now, The Human Resistance had barely any ground in the lower city. The battle continued.

Baranor eyed the map once more, trying his best to analyse the orc strategies with as big of an open mind as possible. The soldier were ready for almost anything except assassination-based warfare. Strangely enough, the orcs very rarely claimed the kills they made and even rarer was to see them enter open combat. All the people they ever targeted were higher ranking officers and captains, they almost seamed to avoid common footsoldiers.

Despite all Baranor's warnings Idril decided to accompany Torvin on a scouting mission deep into the city, concerning some very strange chanting coming out of the small cave enclave, without a strategical importance and usually inhabited by all manner of deadly creatures. He only wishes they stopped to strategize before leaving a vague message with one of the rookies and vanishing from the encampment.

"Captain Baranor! I bring great news!"

Baranor shifted his sight onto the rookie Infront of him.

"What is it soldier?"

"We've managed to capture one of the orc captains from Minas Morgul."

Baranor's shock, truly, must have been a sight to see.

* * *

"How the SHRACK did that happen?!" Mozu the Angry shrieked, only barely being held back from ripping one the poor footsoldiers a new one.

"And here I thought you wanted to honour the Gravewalker by trying to stay calm." Dûsh the Unshamed commented with a small amused smirk, only sending Mozu into another fit of rage.

"You should not have done that Dûsh, we're all still grieving."

"And here I thought you liked the pain."

Malmûg the Pain-lover gave him a tired look and picked up, the now exhausted, Mozu.

"I might, but I never wanted...this."

The olog clumsily gesticulated out the window, while putting the dazed uruk down on a sofa. Dûsh only huffed.

"We still need a way to solve this mess. Blood-brother or not, an overlord has been captured by the tarks and without him, our influence over his captains is weak and almost nonexistent over his warchiefs. If he is broken..."

"Muzglog will not be broken by some bloody tarks!"

Mozu spat angrily, still too tired to charge at Dûsh.

"You mean like he was broken by the Ranger?"

"That's hardly fair!"

"ENOUGH!"

Bought the uruks stayed silent, looking at the mountain that was Malmûg.

"We've waited for almost a week. The Boss is not coming back. We'll finish the burial rights, choose our replacements, send the other orcs away and at dawn we either free Muzglog or die trying. In the name of the bright lord!"

* * *

Idril quietly took out the last of the orcs patrol. Torvin's quiet compliments on her skill slid of her as if they weren't made at all. Being of Numenorian blood at first seamed like a blessing, enabling her to keep fighting for the people longer just as watching them grow into the fighters that they were now.

At first, she wasn't bothered by the people dying around her. As morbid as it sounds, soldiers die all the time, but that doesn't mean that their sacrifice is in vain. And so she always moved on, ingnoring the sadness that was building up within her.

That is until she met Baranor.

The fact that he aged shocked her. She never truly realised how little she changed until she was confronted by Baranor's lined face with still quite neat, but grey hair and a beard to match. She tried to hold back the tears as best she could, but it seams, Baranor knows her too well. Finally, in his bear hug, she gave in and cried her soul out.

Torvin was a few steps infront of her, occasionally tugging her in one direction or another, trying to figure out what the orcs needed marble white flowers and a ton of wine for. If it weren't orcs, she might have thought they were building a temple of their own twisted sorts.

Idril and Torvin finally rounded the last corner and emerged once more outside city walls, except they found themselves in a small park, at the edge of a cliff, with a quite magnificent, even though not working, fountain. Low and mournful chanting, almost like prayers was coming from down the path.

Black speech.

Shame she didn't understand it.

Idril went to take a step further when she was stopped by a scared looking Torvin.

"Not so fast, lass. We need to be quiet 'bout this one. Who knows what their doing there."

A light nod was enough to continue on their way.

They sneaked around groups of orcs, quietly taking them out before they could take up arms.

Finally reaching the the cave, more like a hole in a rock, they couldn't believe their eyes. At the back of the cave stood an ornate marble archway, leading into what looked like elven barrows, except the flooring and all the statues have been remodelled with marble. The statues depicted a human male with a hood covering most of his face, in a sort of twisted ranger armour and a facemask of a nazgul, but with a crown that nor Idril or Torvin recognized. The barrows weren't illuminated by the star-like blue fires usually associated with the elves, instead it was it was lighted by smaragd green flames, burning with a strange defiance to dying out.

Behind the raging fires was a runic door, alight with the same green light of the flames before it. Idril recognised the doors as one of elven making, from the times of the great elven blacksmith Celebrimbor, even though these doors matched non in her books, as far as she could remember.

Where a blacksmith's hammer symbol should adore the top the door, a broken sword pulsed with a steady flow instead. Two pillars, in the style of Barak-Dur, the other the tower of Minas Morgul, but also beautifully decorated with elven motives adored the sides of the carved archway. Tengwar scrip shined in the space between the towers, shining quietly.

"It's a shame I can't read it."

Idril sayed quietly, gaze transfixed upon the words, lightly sliding her hand down the door. Torvin huffed quietly.

"Stand back, kid. I might not be great at the elven scripts, but I'll try and translate for ya."

Torvin took a few steps forward and after a small moment stared at the Ithildin door as if it personally offended him.

"What is it?"

"Look, lass. My translation might be of so don't take the value of what I translate at first glance.

_One ring for the honoured King, who in death was bound,_

_One ring with which defiant leaders he will abase,_

_One ring to tear through time and space,_

_One ring for any war to be won,_

_In his tower of Minas_ _Morgul_ _,_

 _In the land of Mordor, where the Shadows lied._ "

A terrified quiet followed.

"Should we even open it?"

"We have to," Idril moved forward with dedication, "who knows what ring the door speaks of."

"Lass, I'm not sure if..."

Torvin jumped back with a high pitched yelp, startling them bought into readying their weapons as the Ithildin door opened to reveal the personification of the restored statues behind them, wearing his mithril nazgul armour with a strange certainty as it gleamed and sparkled with a silver shine and with the mithril burial mask in hand. Green glowin eyes pierced them with a mix of amusement, concern and mistrust.

Torvin broke the silence first.

"Talion?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm an extremely slow writer. I'm so sorry and I hope you have a fantastic day :)


	3. A new dawn approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A midchapter setting up the next few chapters to follow. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

The air is so brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, Talion might. No-one speaks, what is there to say? A former nazgul necromancer who just so happens to be able to cheat his own death at any corner would most probably shock anybody. Especially if the previously mentioned black rider is casually walking through the Resistance encampment as if he literally didn't just walk out of his own grave. This goes double for those who knew him before this ...predicament.

Baranor just stood still, eyes wide and mouth open, just transfixed upon the nazgul. Talion understood. Very few dared to look into his pale face and even fewer dared to glance into his fiery green eyes, fearing the magic within them, but as much as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to stand it completely. This feeling only intensified when he found who they managed to capture.

"...boss?"

" _How did you manage to get captured this time_ _Muzglog_?"

Despite almost whispering, Talion's voice seemed to boom with it's layered, corrupted texture, penetrating every obstacle, inanimate or otherwise. This, however, made Muzglog happier than anything.

"Boss! You're alive!... I think..."

Despite Talion doing his best not to, an amused smirk appeared on his face as be got on one knee to be on the same eye level as his bound follower.

" _How did you end up here_?"

The fact that Talion relaxed a little seemed to fill the uruk captain with pride as he straightened out as much as his bonds allowed.

"We've been holding Mordor so far, only loosing Dol-Guldur to the Dark Lord but the rest is still loyal to you."

Talion frowned at Muzglog, making him shrink down under his impatient glare.

" _Did you go deaf since the last time I've seen you or have I not been asking the same question on repeat_?"

"Sorry boss, it's just that... well... I... might have tripped..."

" _Tripped_?"

"Yeah, tripped..."

" _You don't sound convinced about the story yourself_."

Muzglog's face reddened a little as he looked embarrassed to the ground.

"Well... it wasn't quite a tripp, more like a fall..."

" _A fall you say_..."

"Morelikeathrow... No, because, I was doing a vault over one of the tarks you see, big as a mountain, by a head bigger than an olog I tell you, and I was..."

" _Muzglog_ _, just...stop. You're a terrible liar. You don't have to tell me if you truly don't want to, even though I would argue that you'd still retain the title of the Acrobat even if your fall wasn't on purpose._ "

"Sorry boss."

" _Don't be, there's no reason for it. Now, let's free you from this predicament, shall we_?"

Talion got up from the ground, aiming to untie him, only to immediately freeze in his tracks. Voices...no, not just any voices... Three distinct voices, who in their heated argument on enemies were wandering ever so closer to the tent where Talion an Muzglog resided.

"...and how can you bee so sure about that?! What if he used some kind of magic to look like him? Have you even though of..."

"Think 'o what exactly? It's Talion we're talking 'bout!"

"Boss?"

Talion have Muzglog a reassuring look as he shushed him down.

" _That's ok. Just wait._ "

"...not to even mention the impression it's giving our soldiers!"

The flaps of the tent flew open as a somewhat panicked Baranor, an annoyed Idril and a tired looking Torvin entered. Before the flaps fell back down, Talion saw two unidentified soldiers attempt to hide in nearby bushes, no doubt to try and listen in on their conversation. He almost wasn't able to suppress the need to smirk.

Baranor opened his mouth but left it like that when he looked at Talion once more. Idril looked almost as confused as Torvin.

"Baranor?"

Idril waved a hand in front of Baranor's face, but to no avail. Talion's smirk finally broke through.

" _It's improper for a captain to leave their mouth hanging open, Baranor_."

That ghostly comment seemed to finally break the trance as Baranor drew his sword and pointed it at Talion's throat with a furious glare.

"You have a lot of nerve, hollow man."

"You've got a lot of nerve to threaten my boss right infront of me, manswine!"

Muzglog's attempts to free himself were spotted by Talion's glance.

" _There's no need for violence, Baranor. I won't attack as long as I don't have to defend_."

"And how am I supposed to believe that?"

Baranor's sword cut a small cut into the nazgul's neck letting a small stream of blood, as black as night, flow down the blade. Needless to say that the uruk overlord present resumed his enraged trashing about.

"YOU PINKSKINED INFADEL! I'LL TEAR OF YOUR HEAD AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOU'RE..."

" _ **That's ENOUGH**_!"

Talion's voice cut through air like thunder, and like with thunder, tense silence followed. Despite not needing to breathe, Talion let out a slow sigh to calm his nerves before speaking calmly again.

" _I've survived for almost a century in the iron prison that is Mordor, I even survived being turned into a nazgul and thrown into the very heart of Mount Doom, so let me ask you all this. Do you really think that after all_ _that_ _...a plain old steel sword is going to put me down for good_?"

Finally, after a short moment of hesitation, the sword finally left his neck. Talion smiled a little as he finally moved behind Muzglog and untied him. The uruk fell with clinging of his ornamented marauder armour to the ground before pulling himself together and kneeling before the former ranger, still shooting all kind of ugly looks at the stunned trio.

"What are your orders, boss?"

" _First of all, stand up and follow me. All of you._ "

Talion almost glided to the tent flaps and casually strolled out of the tent into the camp with Muzglog at his side and the three stunned people behind, giving a quick look to the bush.

Soldiers around them either scrambled to get their weapons, did their best to imitate Baranor's first expression or just spat some insults in his general direction. Talion merrily ignored all this and made his way in the general direction of the camp entrance.

" _Muzglog I need you to gather the rest of the overlords and prepare them for a meeting with the leaders of this..._ "

"Resistance?"

" _Yes, Resistance. Leave your brother in charge of the fort however. I don't believe him to be of ideal mindset for negotiations_."

"But, boss..."

" _Don't even try and cover for him. The last conscious memory I have of your brother is him getting enraged and throwing a caragor off of a cliff because the front gate of his fort was creaking_."

Muzglog gave a nostalgic chuckle.

"Fair enough. When's gonna be the meeting?"

Talion turned on his heal with the two captains and a dwarf almost running into him. He looked straight at Idril ignoring Baranor's searing.

"Are you free for a meeting today after sundown?"

"If in our camp then yes, but..."

" _Excellent. Muzglog, tell the others not to kill anybody at the very least until the end of the meeting. I'll join you in the meeting, for now I have a job to do_."

"A job?" Baranor asked suspiciously.

" _Yes, a job. As loud as the uruk race can be, they were not the ones who woke me up. When she aided me in returning to this realm, Shelob mentioned that she was dying, whenever she ment to say it or not. I plan on seeing if she's still alive. If worst comes to worst, she at the very least, deserves a decent burial. Not to even mention that her brood might go berserk on us, if we don't strike a deal with them as soon as possible._ "

Talion started coughing drily and heavily, followed strange quiet followed this statement only broken by an awkward caught from Torvin.

"You okay cap'n? That didn't sound that we'll."

" _I'm fine, it's just... I haven't spoken in a while_."

Muzglog gave a half-annoyed huff as he slowly started walking towards the city.

"More like half a century. I'll go and prepare everyone."

"May I come with you?"

Idril ran after Muzglog, seemingly exited, leaving the rest of her company in silence.

"If you can keep up, tark."

"I'll go and prepare everyone as well. I don't know what you're expecting to get out of this, ring-wraith, but don't expect us to go easy on you."

" _I wouldn't dream of it_."

Baranor gave Talion one last, murderous look and walked away.

"Well cap'n, seems like the two of us are going to have to find Shelob on our own."

" _The two of us? I didn't expect you to be willing to come with me, master dwarf_."

Torvin and Talion started walking of locked in a light chatter. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away...

* * *

"You cannot be serious, my lady. It's simply impossible."

"And yet he breathes. Maybe, you should have been more diligent."

"I made sure they were all dead. I burried them myself."

"You know your orders. You may not sail West with us for as long as the nazgul live. Even if just one."

"I do understand you concern my lady, but this punishment seems a bit too harsh. We did allow Celebrimbor to sail West after all, why not her?"

"This is a wastly different situation Mithrandir, however you do not understand the gravity of the situation. This nazgul is almost completely immortal and tentimes more dangerous than the Witchking himself. He cannot be left to his own devices."

A short silence followed.

"Then I will travel with you, Eltariel. I'd very much like to meet this nazgul. That is... If our lady allows it."

Galadriel smiled softly and her smile brightened her surroundings.

* * *

What I imagine Talion's armor looks like in this story:

<https://pin.it/1iqetqK>


	4. Back to the song we came from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything dies in the end

The lunch of seasoned meat brought a tangible inner smile. Torvin and Talion were traveling nonstop since they left the Resistance encampment, only stopping for a rest and lunch when Talion finally realised that Torvin was still alive and needed it.

The dwarf took another large bite out of the baked meat.

Talion took up a perch on a large boulder near the campfire, his back turned to the fire, while looking into the distance, occasionally glaring daggers at the bushes to the side, but always looking back into the distance with a growing annoyance.

Another bite followed, although more reluctantly.

"Ya not hungry, cap'n?"

There was a thoughtful pause.

" _I don't know_."

"Ya don't? Don't ye need it to...well...live?"

A small chuckle resonated out of the nazgul, traveling lightly through the different planes of experience as Talion faced the curious dwarf.

" _I'm not quite alive anymore. I do have a physical body, so I probably would be able to. On the other hand, I am more wraith than the man I used to be, most of my energy comes from the unseen world and the faith of my followers in me. And so my answer is that honestly have no idea_."

"Well...aye, but aren't ya hungry at all? Wouldn't want to deprave ya feeble self of the little flood ye might need is all."

Talion gave a patient smile, as he looked to some rustling bushes some distance away.

" _I truly don't need it my friend, but you might want to extend the offer to your friends hiding in the bushes. They seem to be a bit short on their supplies_."

Torvin immediately spun around to the rustling bushes only to catch a glimpse of a dark blue fabric, steel and dark leather. Torvin's blood began to boil.

"YE TWO BEARDLESS PORRIDGE-EATIN' RUST-BUCKETS, GET OUT HERE, NOW!"

After a short moment of strained silence, two figures emerged out of the cover that the slowly dying plants provided.

The girl and boy stood before Torvin, openly challenging him to tell them of, but obviously lacking the personal conviction to go through with it if the dwarf took them up on it. The girl looked no more the 25 with the boy looking to be the same age, if not a little older.

The girl was of a darker skin tone, almost a mix between the Haradrim and West tones, but leaning more into the darker side. Her dark blue hand-me-down Ithilian armour allowed for her dirty blond, almost brown hair to pop up as one of the first things to be noticed about her besides her deep brown eyes. She seemed to wear a smug look as a default, despite being that on a shorter side. Her hand wandered towards her sword when she noticed Talion still listening.

The boy wasn't much of an improvement, considering that he wasn't stopped staring wide eyed at Talion since they left Minas Morgul.

Unlike his friend, the boy was obviously a very, very young ranger. His leather armour seemed worn and strangely familiar, even without the Black Gate markings and just like Talion, he wore his blades on his back. He was very obviously Weston, with brown hair and eyes to match, with features that reminded Talion of someone. If only he could figure out who.

"- AND EVEN THEN THEY'D BREAK ME LIKE LIKE AN ANVIL-DROPPIN' LUMP OF ANTHRACITE!"

" _That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"_

"IT'S THE TRUTH!"

Torvin bent over as he let out a great sigh to try and calm himself. The choked laughter of the two young adults didn't help his nerves a bit. He straightened out only to shut the children up with a death glage.

"Talion, may I introduce Ralla, sergeant of the Resistance and Redd, a ranger of Gondor. These two buggers are the most annoyin'..."

"You'd die of boredom if we didn't tag along." Ralla's amused voice was almost that of a girl's but carrying the authority and heavy humour of a soldier.

"I WOULDN'T HAVE TO KEEP ON DOUBLIN' BACK JUST TO SAVE YE TWO ALL THE TIME!"

"Well that's just not fair. It's not like we don't help you at all." Ralla looked amused and offended at the same time. Meanwhile, Redd surely tried his best to stop staring at the impatient nazgul, yet he kept on failing miserably.

Torvin walked in a small circle, mumbling to himself. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer as if trying to get a message through.

"I know ya try to help me, but desertion from the resistance only to show up with me, pressurin' me into coverin' for ye is not helpin' anyone at all!"

Ralla seemed a bit offset at that argument and almost started packing, when her eyes, just as Redd's, landed on the annoyed black rider. She bit her lip nervously while all that Talion could do was to give up internally.

"We're just doing our job, Torvin. Protecting and defending, right Redd?... Redd!"

Redd finally moved his scared gaze off of the Gravewalker, still sporting it as he looked to the, now smug, sergeant.

"What?.."

"He agrees."

Torvin huffed, as if he was used to this already.

"Well, unless ye plan on protectin' the caragors from me axe, then I'm afraid that your services aren't particularly wanted or needed. Ye can go back now."

"She didn't mean to protect the caragors, she ment you."

"I? What the bloody blazers... I might be the last person who needs protection 'ere. Now ye two go back and..."

"We can't leave you here!"

"We couldn't..."

"And why would that be?"

Torvin's question was met with heavy silence. Talion couldn't stand the tension any longer. He stood up absurdly.

"Talion?"

" _Let the children be, they obviously mean me. It's better if I go into her cave alone. I'll meet you here in about an hour_."

"But, cap'n..."

" _If I'm not here by then, assume I'm dead and leave to tell the captains. The last thing anyone needs is an enraged uruk army_."

As Talion left the campsite, a palpable coldness could be felt rolling off of him. Torvin's glage at that point seemed lethal as he looked at the sergeant and the ranger.

"Ya two are a bunch of ignorant ghûls."

* * *

In the cave the only sound that met Talion's straining ears were his own echoing footsteps. The spider's den truly might have felt lifeless to anyone but a necromancer. The den was unoccupied, yet the aura of death was missing.

As he made his way through the cave, Talion noted a few potential signs of struggle, although a few thick webs torn appart wasn't extremely concerning. The tracks he found however, were quite interesting. They resembled that of the hobbits. Three sets. Two of them the standard while one slightly curved.

Gollum.

But what about the other two?

Talion followed the tracks deep into the cave, deeper than he ever was before, until he found it. He stood before a deep hole in one of the rock wall. He could already feel the blood underneath his boots.

Talion took a step forward.

"Stop!"

As weak as the voice was, it still resonated with the power of it's former influence and strength.

" _Shelob_?"

"Just... stop..."

Talion remained stunned for a moment longer before sitting casually down with his back to the wall and his arm propped up on one of his knees. Silence stretched itself throughout the cave system.

" _You know I could help you_."

Shelob's chuckle felt hopeless and dry.

"And how would you do that, necromancer? Hmm? You might still have a purpose in this cursed land, but my time is numbered and I'd love to finally have my rest."

Talion's nails dug into his palms, close to drawing blood.

" _I'm not saying you must stay. I'm saying that I know what it's like to be left for dead. I know what it's like slowly slipping into nothingness, knowing that there's nothing you can do stop it, end it or just to stop enduring it without anyone to witness and mourn_ _for you. All I'm saying is that I can help you. In whatever method you choose._ "

Talion tried his hardest to let the honesty of his words be heated despite the ghostly echo staining his every word. Talion's train of thoughts was interrupted by Shelob trying to support herself with a hand on his thigh.

Shelob looked pale, even paler than usual. Her sharp elven features were drenched in her sweat and her chest seemed to get heavier with every shallow breath she took. Despite all this she looked Talion in the eye and ,for probably the first time since they've known each other, gave him a soft thankful smile.

"Thank you, Talion. There's no need for help, just... stay... please. It'll soon be over anyways."

" _Of course_."

Talion gently squeezed her hand as the great spider, for the last time, slowly fell asleep on her only friend's shoulder.

\---  
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**Sorry guys for taking this long to write this chapter. School was hell. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a fantastic day :)**


	5. Quiet before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I hope your well. I had some problems at school so it took me longer to write this chapter. I hope you enjoy it and have a fantastic day.

Almost a month has passed with the Resistance and the orc army settling into an uneasy peace. 

The peace meeting between the groups was anything but... well, peaceful. Many harsh words were invented through out the meeting, but in the end both groups agreed that letting a nazgul sit at the helm of Minas Morgul wouldn't be a great image to present to the rest of Middle-earth while removing him could be seen as a sign of weakness by the various eastern and southern kingdoms and empires. 

This prompted the two groups to create the Council where equal measure of Resistance and Uruk leaders would meet regularly or when summoned, but still keeping Talion as the definitive ruler of Mordor, thought nobody informed the nazgûl in question. Baranor took the position of Grand-general of the mordorian armies, Idril chose to be a Shield maiden of Mordor as well as Lady Counselor of Minas Morgul. The only conditions were that Talion wouldn't be allowed to be a part of the council itself or change their decisions unless necessary, thought still participating and acting as a judge and middleman, and that it's members would in equal measure represent all the races living within Mordor. 

Talion's head started pounding just recalling the absolute catastrophe that was the first Council meeting, but the pain left in a moment's notice as the silver ring seemed to hug his finger a bit tighter. Talion gave the jewelry a curious look to which only an overwhelming calmness flowed from it was his only response. He tried to connect to it once more, looking for it's will and voice, but finding only a small sleeping presence, unwilling to let go of it's favourite pillow. All he could force himself to do at this point was to look away from the star-filled sky behind the window of his chamber. 

Talion looked around his darkened rooms. He honestly expected to be either left to live in the stables or to be thrown out of the bastion all together. He most certainly didn't expect to be treated like somebody good enough to be a leader, followed by the curiosity and quiet awe that the people presented him with. He didn't expect this and he most certainly did not deserve this. 

The numbers of the newly named people of Minas Morgul were steadily increasing as more and more refugees, former slaves and orcs who, after the defeat of Sauron, were looking for a purpose in life flooded in through the front gate. They were uneasy around him and his orcs at first, but after almost two weeks they started slowly warming up to them. 

Talion tried his best to keep them at a distance, not to spread the...the filth that he was corrupted with. The adults understood the need for space to keep them safe fairly quickly, although they still allowed the children to come near and play around him whenever he stepped out of the tower.

Despite the moon nearing the highest peak of it's journey, Talion was more compelled to roam outside than to lie down into the carefully prepared and washed white sheets, comfortable pillows and the looming black hands dragging him into the darkest corners of his past.

No.

Not tonight.

Talion almost carelessly grabbed his weapons and without a second thought walked out of his chambers, only keeping the lush courtyard in mind as he started to run through the halls.

The relief Talion felt when he saw the tower's upper gardens was almost undescribable.

A heavy sign left his chest numb from the, now released, pent up emotions. He fell to his knees in relief right into the sparkling, emerald green grass.

The bastion as well as the city was still under heavy reconstruction work from the last war, but it still glowed with a protective inner light. A light unwilling to die out without first serving it's purpose and illuminating it's surroundings, turning corners and staying on the leafs of the city's vegetation, making it seam as if the plants themselves glowed brighter than the tower. Running his hand through the grass, Talion found it to be as soft as ever.

"So it seems that I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep."

Redd carefully lowered himself next to the nazgul, still very obviously nervous around him. Talion gave him a soft smile.

" _And why is it that you're up and about? Fully armoured no less_."

"Ah...you know...my mind refuses to stop wandering and rest. May I ask you something?"

A light chuckle escaped Talon's throat.

" _You already are_."

The younger ranger frowned.

"No, I meant a different..."

" _I know what you mean. Ask and I'll do my best to answer._ "

A deep silence stretched between them.

"How much do you remember?"

" _Only what he wanted me to remember and what he tried to make me forget, mind you that's not much in the first place_."

"But you remember something, at least from before, right?"

Another sigh followed.

" _Either ask your question, kid or leave me at peace_."

"I... My grandfather was at the black gate when it fell."

" _I grieve with you. Who was he? I knew everybody at the gate, I'm sure I knew him as well_."

"Well... I... don't quite know who he was."

Talion couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Redd.

" _How so_?"

"My mother didn't know in the first place, father refused to tell because apparently he didn't want to cause me 'distressed' and my grandmother, well...she... couldn't bare to remember... she had a weak heart. All I ever learned of him was that he used to be a ranger of Gondor before he was sent to the Black Gate."

" _Is that why_..."

"... I became a ranger? Yes. My father refused to be a ranger again after what happened at the gate. He disapproved, of course, but I became a ranger anyways."

The silence between them was swept away by a gentle breeze.

" _I hope your grandfather found peace in death, whoever he may have been_."

"Em... Yeah... Thanks... How did you get the scars?"

Redd unceremoniously poked Talion' back.

" _Well if that wasn't one of the smoothest transitions into talking about torture_..."

"I'm sorry..."

" _Don't apologize, there's no need. Besides, you've shared a little of yourself, why wouldn't I share a little too? Those scars were a punishment for disobeying and almost killing one of Sauron's 'devine' creations. Apparently by doing so I saved an enemy's life. That simply couldn't stand within his perfect army, now could it_?"

"Do you remember who you saved?"

Redd leaned in alittle, looking at Talion with big, curious eyes, reminding him again of a long forgotten moment within the Black Gate barracks. Talion shook his head lightly.

" _No idea, Sauron made sure I remembered the punishment as well as why I was being punished, but made sure I didn't remember how I broke his hold of me_."

"Than why didn't he just erase the whole thing and be done with it?"

" _Who knows? He was a deranged bastard who thought himself to be saving the world all the while doing the exact opposite. I cannot pretend to understand such a mind._ "

Redd stretched his arms, obviously getting more tired by the minute. Talion gave a soft sigh as he looked up to the stars.

" _You should go to sleep, kid. I'm sure one of the captains will be more then happy to be a bodyguard for a night_."

"You're right. I probably should do that. Thanks for the talk."

" _No problem, just get some rest_."

A light chuckle left Redd as he reluctantly got up from the ground.

"Good night....boss."

An amused smirk appeared on Talion's face.

" _Good night master ranger_."

* * *

Meanwhile within the Gondorian royal court

* * *

"There's no sign of your son or the company he traveled with. We searched everywhere except..."

"You'd do well not to remind me of that place, sergeant."

The sergeant nervously stepped from one foot to the other.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's the only possible place they could have went. Especially with the things he was talking about last time..."

"I'm aware of what he was saying!"

The General massaged the bridge of his nose as he let out a heavy sigh.

"I'll have to inform the king in the morning. Go get some rest, sergeant. We'll all need it."

"Uh... General? About the king..."

The tired soldier didn't get to finish his sentence as the door of the General's office opened with annoyed creaking. The soldier immediately saluted as the general battled the pain in his elderly joints to do the same for his king.

Aragon gave a warm smile to the soldiers as he stepped into the room followed by Gandalf and a blond female elf with a hood pulled over her head that the general didn't recognize.

"You don't have to salute me all the time, my friend. Especially when I'm just casually visiting."

"I'm glad to do this, my lord. Master Gandalf, it's good to see you again."

Gandalf laughed warmly.

"As well as you, old friend. I'm surprised you haven't retired yet."

The general scoffed.

"I've been in the army for so long that I doubt I would know what to do with myself if I did."

The elf huffed impatiently.

"As much as I hate to interrupt you, I have to remind you that we're here to discuss our expedition into Mordor."

"Than it's a good thing I wanted to discuss Mordor with his Highness anyways, isn't it?"

The general supported himself against his desk as he faced his curious king.

"It seems that my ranger Redd and his company disappeared. We haven't seen them for almost a month, but considering his newest... opinions, it's possible that he went in the direction of Mordor."

Aragon's eyes seemed to look a bit heavier as he spoke.

"Do you think they may have been taken by the orcs?"

The general looked to the ground.

"It's hard to believe, but it isn't impossible."

Gandalf's soft touch seemed to radiate delicate warmth and a sense of reassurance throughout the general's body although his face showed a mix of sympathy and concern.

"We might actually know what possibly happened to your son."

The generals eyes widened with shock as the hooded elf started to talk.

"It's recently come to light that one of the nazgul survived and still resides within Mordor. If this ranger lead the soldiers there, he might have captured them."

The general frowned slightly.

"And who exactly are you if I may ask?"

The blond elf deflated a little as she offered to shake hands.

"I'm Eltariel, blade of Galadriel. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The general leaned forward as he shook Eltariel's hand.

"Grand-General Dirhael of Gondor and the pleasure is all mine. Now, what's this about a nazgul?"


	6. The greatest cage of all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING THERE'S SOME SWEARING IN THIS CHAPTER. Sorry that I haven't uploaded anything for so long, I was very ill and all my notes from that time are... well... strange. I honestly have no idea what the chapter I wrote was supposed to be about. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Idril believed herself to be hardened by her life enough that she wouldn't be intimidated easily. The battle before her proved otherwise.

It's been a chaotic day from the start to this very cold evening. It's not like they didn't expect it, but the ferocity of the Gondorian attacks still managed to catch them slightly unprepared, despite the attacks being relatively easily suppressed.

The recent battles took Baranor, Redd, the recently appointed rangers of Mordor and many of Talion's usual bodyguards to the front lines while leaving the nazgul and the rest of the mordorian military to deal with internal affairs by having to use more... controversial methods of warfare.

Mind you, the situation could have been easily contained, if the rebelling orc captains have been recruited already, which brings us to the present cold evening and the war unraveling before Idril's very eyes.

"Why don't you just dominate them like the rest?!" 

Ralla's anger was dripping from her every word like venom. At that moment her anger could have killed if it wasn't directed at the only undead creature in Minas Morgul.

The only response that the young captain got out of Talion was a glare. His eyes flared up with the green fires within him as he squinted them at her, achieving a perfect 'ten' on the scale of You-will-wish-Sauron-got-to-you-first as he let out an almost inaudible growl.

Unlike any other sane person, Ralla in turn interpreted it as an encouragement. A half satisfied, half vicious smirk appeared on her face despite trying to suppress it.

"Or is it that you just enjoy the bloodshed? But then again what else could we expect from a nazgul?"

This time it was loud. The growl was low almost tangibly enraged, with a reverb that made it sound absolutely inhuman to the point where even the orc grunts, stationed on guard within the main hall, quivered with deep fright. As Talion stood up from behind the round, stone table, the mood shifted and even the palantir went quiet, as if the tower itself could feel the storm to come. Idril couldn't stand it any longer.

"Calm down, BOTH of you!"

Idril's voice cut through the air like glass and yet all it did was to turn the two lethal glares at her followed by an otherworldly, dark snarl. 

" _Oh, no, don't you dare! This has been coming for a bloody month, let the child speak_!"

Ralla went almost completely red.

"YOU...have NO right to call me a child! Unlike SOMEBODY who refuses to do his job and break a few..."

" _THAT'S IT! Oggir_."

A series of clanging and hushed, quick swearing followed as a skinny uruk grunt with an obviously freshly painted green hand on the side of his face appeared jogging from behind one of the pillars, stopping before his leader, straightening out his back and trying to hide his fear of Talion while failing miserably at doing so. Talion gracefully ignored this fact and settled on glaring at, now somewhat confused, Ralla.

"Uhm...yes, sir?"

Talion walked a few skittish circles before answering with a suppressed annoyance in his voice. Idril slowly started crossing the distance between her and the former ranger.

_"I need you to bring him to me._ "

The orc grunt went visibly pale.

"Sir?"

"Talion, this is..."

"What do you think you're..."

" _Now_!"

The grunt scurried of and out of the great hall as the two captains have been left in a bewildered silence, finally allowing Talion to take in a metaphorical breath. If only it could last.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Surprisingly enough, it was Idril's voice that carried the angry question. Talion ignored her as he flipped through his his maps and notes, before finally giving up and replying in in a low, menacing tone with a bit of exhaustion slowly braiding it's way into it.

" _Do you even know what has to be done to dominate them, kid? Can you even start to comprehend what mutilation I inflict upon them when doing so?_ "

Ralla's face shifted into an image of confusion followed immediately by patronising annoyance, doing a horrible job at trying to mimic Talon's tone.

"So you beat them up a little. Who cares? It's not like they will after you recruit them."

"As much as I don't agree with the wording," Idril carefully, but still very obviously angrily chipped in, "I do think that Ralla has a point. It's not like you haven't done it before and the orcs turned out fine, pleasant even. So why not bring them in?"

Behind his hood and stone face, Idril could almost sense Talion's disbelief and growing exhaustion. The nazgul let out a quiet, hopeless chuckle.

" _It worked while Sauron lived. Destroy his hold and replace it with my own, nothing too complicated. It's not like they can truly resist it. The moment of Sauron's death many decided to end their lives rather than to live without his dominion over them. It's a damn wonder that so many of my own followers are still alive and kicking..."_

"Is there a point to this monologue."

Ralla's snarl hit a nerve with Talion, that much was obvious.

" _Because, kid, the ones without that protection, his dominion being engrained so deeply that their minds could as well be iron... or me imposing too much on them never ends well_."

The silence was promptly ended by Ralla's, now slightly curious, voice.

"And what do you mean by that?"

The creaking of the bastion's from door filled the air aroun them as a slightly panicked looking Dûsh followed by his elite gang and a whimpering olog-hai captain who started out right crying the moment he spotted Talion. Dûsh's voice as full of carefulness and respect, just as well as uncertain curiosity.

"Got him here boss, but I don't think he'll... What the shrack's happening here?"

Talion visibly relaxed the moment Dûsh stood next to him, but never took his eyes off of the young haradrim captain.

" _You want to know why I won't do my **one** damn job_?"

The nazgul reached for the crying olog's face and almost effortlessly brought him to his knees. All Ralla and Idril could bring themselves to do was to stare when the olog started whining outloud.

"... I never wanted the fort. Why don't you just keep the bloody fort? I know it's your fort..."

Brûz was quivering at the fell rider's feet at this point, unable to look up. Talion touched the side of the captain's face and in a soft flash of green light the olog immediately calmed down and walked out of the hall with an unidentified purpose in his step. Idril broke the silence first.

"Why?"

" _So that you know what you're asking me to risk... and so that you know what my exact opinion is on leaving no survivors when your enemy surrenders, basically torturing prisoners of war_..."

"Now, that's not..."

_"I don't care how annoying they might get. Withholding food to gain answers is still torture... and treating the newly recruited uruks as crap is in my opinion intolerable and frankly barbaric_." 

Ralla snarled at that.

"And yet you had absolutely no problem with doing all this under dear old Sauron."

Talion sent her the most insincere smile he could muster.

" _What a fucking shame you weren't recruited by him instead._ "

Ralla was in absolute disbelief, opening and closing her mouth as if trying to find the strength to argue until she simply spun around on her heel and half jogged out of the hall. Idril couldn't believe what she just witnessed. Shure, Talion was quieter than how he was when she knew him. She never expected... this.

" _You should go after her and make sure that this doesn't happen every goddamn time Redd leaves the city. I understand attachment, but this_..."

Idril frowned.

"She might be impulsive, but she doesn't deserve that, despite..."

" _Despite doing this every time her boytoy leaves the bastion? Despite being the one encouraging most of the heinous things I mentioned not even a minute ago? Or is it despite the fact that she had this very same argument with three different orc captains who left the city rather than to deal with her_?"

In that moment, Talion's voice inspired nothing but fear in Idril. It was menacing and very, VERY close to the voice of a standard nazgul but getting continuosly more raspy, as if he was forcing himself to keep on talking. Talion huffed in defeat and sat back down into his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose, this time almost whispering.

" _Not only did they feel ashamed over something that they had no control over, they felt like I wouldn't support them it they dared to defend themselves. I can't thank the Valar enough that they didn't betray us yet_."

A tense silence stretched throughout the hall. Idril couldn't quite calm herself. Her shock, anger, sympathy and confusion swirled within her like a tornado of emotions destroying any unbiased course of action she could think of. Dûsh broke the tension with a polite cough.

"My lord?"

Talion groaned.

Dûsh huffed a little before asking something in the black speech. Idril didn't understand the dark tongue. It's not like she felt like ever learning it in the first place. It always intrigued her, but never enough to learn the always angry sounding language. However, Dûsh's quiet and fast spoken question followed by Talion's mumbled answer are it sound almost... aesthetic. Talion gave another huff before finally looking into Idril's eyes.

" _Just... Keep an eye on her, will you? We cannot afford to fight amongst each other in the middle of a war_."

Idril just nodded and walked out of the hall. She closed the gates just as Dûsh started giving a report on no doubt something random and of topic just to take the nazgul's mind off of the argument.

She entered the courtyard glaring at everybody around her openly challenging them to try and piss her of. The anger from the argument still swirled within her.

On one hand, Talion was absolutely right. She knew of Ralla's merciless attitude and her picking arguments with some of the orc leaders that could prove to be extremely dangerous enemies. She knew how easy it would be for them to betray and slaughter them all. After all, many of them have slain Talion in the past, it's not like they couldn't overpower him and just take the fort. Nobody deserves to be treated like they were. Not to mention that all the Minas Morgul occupants are extremely lucky that the captains just decided to settle in the old orc camp before the bastion walls instead of leaving completely.

On the other hand, that argument brought out something that she simply couldn't attribute to being a difficult day for Talion. Idril almost didn't recognize the creature that shouted at one of their soldiers in such a cruel manner. Was she wrong to trust him so easily? Was possibly Baranor right about it only being a disguise? Has she endangered all the residents of the city by recommending him to be made a lord over all of Mordor?

Idril finally looked up from the ground only to find herself in the lower city. The buzz of reconstruction and everyday life made her relax a little. The reconstruction of the city progressed remarkably fast with all the cultures within the city adding their own small details to the buildings, making it look a little oriental and disorganized while still maintaining it's Weston glamour.

The cohabitation of different races was always refreshing to observe. There was an older looking lady and a relatively young looking olog on one of the more spacious balconies. The olog speaking a black speech stained broken common while the granny patiently instructed him on how to hang up the laundry for it to dry.

(("Just be gentle with it sweetie. A big boy like you could very easily rip my laundry apart. Even on accident."

"Me not understand why you not dry laundry above fire? It faster."

" It also might catch on fire. Now when you finnish hanging all that laundry up, I might just have a batch of fresh cookies for you as a reward."

The moment the olog heared that, his eyes lighted up with pure joy.))

Within the small street marketplace, set up right infront of the main gate, Idril spotted an orc blacksmith debating with a potential Haradrim customer about a plate of armour.

(("What is it made of then?"

"It of the highest quality, sir. A hundred percent metal, I guarantee."

The customer was getting visibly frustrated.

"Well, yes, but what metal? Is it steel?"

The smith scoffed trying to hide his mischievous grin.

"Shure, why not."))

Idril's smile steadily grew as she observed the lives of the civilians around her. A warm feeling of warmth and security grew within her with every small happy moment she observed. 

That is until her sight landed on Brûz.

The olog was still whimpering and mumbling to himself about a fort while somehow managing to oversee the changing of guard shifts. The olog was very obviously tormented and broken and yet no orc paid it a second thought while almost worshipping the ground that the nazgul responsible for this walks upon. 

He might regret it, but Talion was the one who did this nonetheless. Why would the orcs follow somebody like that when they know that he could break them in a blink of an eye?

Idril's gaze shifted to the pile of smoke rising from the camp behind the city walls.

Well, if she can't figure it out on her own, why shouldn't she ask the orcs directly.

Idril picked up her pace as he crossed the great stone bridge, mentally preparing questions to ask the uruk captains.

* * *

There's absolutely no denying it now.

He is a horrible strategist, an undeserving leader and most probably the worst damn ranger that in all the bloody realms.

Redd kept on continuing this train of thoughts as he barely managed to hide behind a few crates, the Gondorian soldiers following closely behind, looking around the supply tent before giving up and moving on.

It was an easy scouting mission. He was leading a small group of rangers that followed him to Mordor, making sure that the area was clear off of all enemy activity. Nothing complicated, just look around and report back. 

Of course, in planing this mission, noone took in mind the character of rangers that would defect just to look around the only area that was forbidden to them. As such, it should come as absolutely no surprise that their teenage minds and egos couldn't handle it when they stumbled upon almost completely unguarded small camp, bearing all the symbols of the king's presence.

The youngsters immediately changed their strategy from scouting to kidnapping the king of Gondor. An extremely stupid plan in retrospect, yes, but in the moment the group of undertrained rangers felt like an elite group of veterans that most definitely could pull of such an ingenious plan. 

It's a right shame that they were too preoccupied with their brilliant strategies to notice a small group of four soldiers, listening in from behind them. Of course, with them being found and their way into the forest cut off, their only option was to loose them in their own camp and than get lost in the bushes long enough to flee and get help.

If only it went that smoothly. Two of his teammates were nocked out right away, one was caught while trying to sneak a group of soldiers looking through the bushes and the last one he hasn't seen in quite some time. That left only him.

Redd carefully looked out from behind the crates before finally quietly slipping out of the tent. He was panicking, that much he would admit. Most if not all of his brothers in arms have been captured already. Was he supposed to do? Abandon them and bring help? Stay and surrender? 

Well, he mocked it already to the point where it can't get any worse, might as well try and break them out.

It took only a few minutes of careful sneaking to find the prisoner tent.

Suddenly, as Redd was reaching for the flaps of the tent, he felt something sharp to be pressed against the back of his neck.

"Turn around. Slowly."

That voice...

_Shit_.

Redd did as he was told and faced the grey haired man with his hands in a gesture of surrender and a big, wide smile on his face.

"Dad, I can explain..."


	7. Battle for Taurband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Graphical description of violence in this chapter (if you can call it that). Also my first ever battle scenes, comments on what to improve would be greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

"How is siding with a nazgûl reasonable? Are we sure he isn't bewitched?" 

High-General Dirhael asked the somewhat amused looking wizard, absentmindedly wavering his hand in Redd's direction, tiredness and annoyance dripping from his every word. 

The young ranger stepped from one foot to the others nervously, rattling his chains in the process. Redd was obviously getting frustrated by the fact that his own father has been talking for almost fifteen minutes as if he wasn't even there. For now, he simply settled on examining the royal war tent, glaring around himself furiously, as if trying to burn a hole into the side of it and escape into the cold night outside.

Gandalf gave the father and son a patient smile as Aragorn tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in his chair, but finding that physical comfort didn't help with the emotional one.

"Even if he was, it doesn't change the fact that he and the other rangers have survived in Mordor for quite some time now. The information they acquired can be useful."

Aragorn's words carried a perfect mix of concern, interest and authority. Gandal, however, could feel the frustration rising within the general and the ranger. He put a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder and carefully alleviating some of his anger with the help of the weakening Narya, which was examining the renegade ranger's from the moment they were caught. The wizard's tone of voice was gentle, but still carried a certainty that Dirhael couldn't find the strength to fight against.

"There is no need to worry about Redd, my friend. He's free of any kind of unnatural influence. Besides, lady Galadriel was adamant that this nazgûl is supposed to be different from the others and with the dark lord gone, we might just be able to negotiate with him."

The High-General gave a heavy sigh as he basically fell into the chair next to his kings. With distrusting eyes, he finally addressed his aggravated son.

"Can it be reasoned with, Redd?"

Redd ignored them and kept on studying the tenet for a few moments before acknowledging them with the most fake expression of shock he could possibly muster.

"Oh, why I am sorry, we're not pretending that I'm a peace of furniture anymore? I was sooooo not prepared for this absolute ton of honour that you bestow upon me, father dearest. Why, I dare not interrupt you in thy casual afternoon talks of genocide."

"Genocide?"

The king didn't look as much surprised or offended by the statement as he seemed to be curious while Dirhael just rolled his eyes, being pretty close to giving up.

"How do you expect anybody to take you seriously when you cannot even show respect to your king?"

Redd raised an eyebrow.

"And exactly happened to the whole 'how dare you replace your king with a twisted wraith' thing from two days ago? Shouldn't I, by that logic, be a citizen of Mor..."

"Cease this foolishness, boy! I did not raise you to speak in this manner to your elders!"

"Well then your childhood must have been quite interesting considering that you've taken away my every weapon, posted the majority of your soldiers around the tent and yet you still have to keep me in chains for some reason. I'm not saying that's pretty paranoid behaviour, but it is pretty paranoid behaviour."

The annoyed father stared his son down, expecting him to give in eventually, but being slightly surprised when instead of doing as expected, Redd threw a murderous glare right back at him as their king did his best to hide his amused face in a cup of tea. Dirhael almost wasn't able to suppress his own proud smirk.

_The boy got some practice since last time_.

Gandalf gave a light chuckle horribly disguised as a cough, his amusement still palpable in his voice.

"And would you be interested in a more civilized conversation without those on?"

The elder lightly gestured with the bottom of his brilliant white staff in the general direction of the clinging chains. Needless to say that the sudden stop to the argument surprised Redd enough to stumble on his words.

"I,uh...maybe?"

Aragorn let a smile warm his face for a moment before calling on a guard, who brought a chair, unlocked Redd's iron shackles and scurried out of the tent. 

Redd did his best to recover what was left of his emotionless mask of stone and sat down as Gandalf finally took the seat on the other side of Aragorn. Somehow, Redd felt more judged sitting down than when he was standing.

Aragorn looked Redd up and down, leaned forward in his chair with a mask of equal curiosity and compassion.

"I think I'll start this of first, shall I? Why did you defect, Redd?"

Redd's confusion broke through in his expression.

"I'm sorry, your highness, what?"

Aragorn gave him a patient smile as he leaned back in his chair once more.

"I'd like to know why you abandoned your family and left Gondor. You see, in any other circumstance, I might have believed that you just wanted to rebel and look around the lands that were prohibited to enter, but you fought against Mordor for years before this. Not to mention that you rebelling wouldn't be enough to convince five more rangers to follow you meaning that there is something I do not see, a problem that's driven you and your friends to do this and I'd like to know why."

Redd leaned back in his chair, loosing himself in his thoughts for a moment as he lightly stroked his chin. Sure, it will be a slippery slope once he starts talking, but then again brooding won't help anybody either. 

He looked up to see the king with patience written all over his face, his father who looked equal measure interested in Redd's answer as he looked furious that this conversation had to be had in the first place and finally Gandalf who shot him an encouraging nod and a warm smile. 

Redd let out a small sigh.

"All our lives we were told that all the patrolling and later on the war was to free the people of Middle earth from the threat that was Sauron. But..."

"And didn't we? The dark lord's no more."

Valar know that Redd loves his father, but in times like these he would just love to throw him out of a window.

"BUT, in leading a war and tending to the civilian disputes, the leadership has forgotten about the people that needed us the most. The slaves of Mordor. From my very early youth I can remember the people who escaped the iron prison, telling their horrifying stories of the torture they went through and how in every single one of these cases the survivor was found dead a few weeks later because they lacked the motivation to keep on living. That's why we defected. We wanted to stop the problem at it's source. Mind you we expected the orcs, but we did not expect to encounter a nazgûl."

A thoughtful silence fell upon them.

Just as the king was about to speak the flaps on the tent opened and closed to reveal the Bane of the Witch king and the Captain of the royal guard herself.

Éowyn had her hair loose, as per usual. She held her helmet under her arm and wore he newst armour even though it was so dirty that it could be easily mistaken for one of the armours hanging in the royal army museum. She gave a quick bow to the royal present and talked in a somewhat monotone, rehearsed voice.

"Your highness, everything is in position, we're ready to attack the fort as soon as in two days from today. They're still unaware of our presence which gives us the element of surprise. I'd recommend attacking as soon as possible."

"What fort are you talking about?"

Éowyn jumped up at Redd's desperate sounding question a little before getting control of herself not even a second later, an expression of concern melting through her usually rock hard disposition.

"Don't worry about it, Redd. The scum won't be able to hurt anyone soon."

Horror appeared on the rangers face.

"No, please, you can't. You don't understand."

Aragorn gave Redd a sad smile as he, Gandalf and Éowyn stood up and started leaving the tent.

"Don't worry, we won't let any harm come to the slaves of the fort. I promise."

"No wait you don't understand."

Redd's desperate sounding words fell on deaf ears as Dirhael ordered a few soldiers to take his son back into his temporary cell. The father's gaze was resigned but still held a glimmer of the love and fear he felt for his son.

"You and the other rangers will be taken to Minas Tirith as soon as we can find appropriate transport. I'm sorry, Redd, but this is for your own wellbeing."

* * *

Minas Morgul, a day later

* * *

Idril sat down on a log, taking in the heat of the bonfire, happy to finally be free of her duties for the day. 

Talion and some of the captains left not even a day ago to reinforce the Núrnen kingdom's secondary fort Taurband against an attack the nazgûl glimpsed within the palantir, leaving Idril to act as a kind of a Steward of Mordor, temporarily responsible for performing all, or at the very least most, of Talion's duties while he's gone.

Idril's head started pounding just imagining all the work that awaited her the next morning. She knew that when he was alive, Talion served as a ranger of Gondor as well as the captain of the Black Gate which would place him in a great position to learn to make good administrative and just decisions. With Idril's experience as shieldmaden of Minas Tirith, she thought herself to be the same if not more prepared to take on the task of ruling Mordor.

She was so, SO wrong.

Idril's calm early morning was quickly interrupted by Dûsh the Unshamed and Kûga the Clever basically dragging her into the main halls of the tower only to be almost drowned in the sea of paperwork, military reports, civilian complaints, complaints on Ralla and company, territory conflicts and war planning. 

She couldn't thank the stars enough for Dûsh's and Kûga's advice and translations as well as Talion writing notes on basically everything within Mordor, to the point where she was mostly copying his work. Idril got lost in the mountain of work until the two captains brought her, in the late afternoon, her first mean that day. 

She certainly could see how Talion got so riled up after a month of what she assumed to be an administrative hell for him. Not that it excused his outburst. Idril made a note of taking some of the responsibilities off of Talion when he got back.

Idril took a large bite out of her roasted meat and admired the glittering stars above, just enjoying the quiet moment.

"Hey commander, brought you lil' somethin' to drink."

Kûga shot Idril a wide, almost completely toothless smile shaking a bottle vine to try and entice her with it. She shot a wide smile back.

"Hey. Is your wife feeling any better?"

The uruk-hai sat down next to her with a heavy sigh and handing her the bottle.

"Ah, well... she's feelin' a bit under weather with another of our pups on the way, but she's a warrior at heart. I've got no doubt she'll be fine. However, that's not why I'm here."

Idril raised her eyebrow.

"Why then?"

"That look."

Kûga pointed at her face before taking a big gulp from the grog he brought for himself.

"It's the same face the boss makes when he doesn't have the answers he searched for. You know... curiosity eating you up from the inside, but bein' unable or unvilin' to feed it and all..."

Idril took a swing of her vine.

"I still don't understand why any of the orcs would follow him, willingly. I mean, sure, he saved you a couple of times sacrificing himself in the process, plus he was a better option to the dark lord at the time, but he still humiliated and enslaved your people. It makes no sense why anybody would follow someone like that."

Kûga's expression melted into one of deep thinking even if just for a brief moment.

"It's more about the principle in my case. I mean, what pathetic kind of a soldier needs their leader to sacrifice himself just for the possibility of them fleein' mostly unharmed? A pretty lousy one by the looks of it. I intend to repay the boss for what he's done for me, my boys and my family. I either fight by his side or die protectin' him."

A mix of desperation and curiousity appeared upon Idril's features.

"But how do you know that these thoughts are your own? How do you know that those feelings are real and not just forced upon you?"

The captain gave a nervous look around himself, making sure that nobody listened. Strangely enough, the camp was scarcely populated that night, with only a few orcs in it. Kûga still looked somewhat uncertain.

"You see, the boss doesn't have as strong of a hold of us as he believes."

Idril tilted her head to the side a little.

"... How can you be so sure?"

Kûga once more looked around himself wildly, his slowly greying dreads softly clicking against his ornate marauder shoulder plate and shield with their metal ends.

"First, I have to ask you to never speak of this with anyone, especially with the boss."

"I promise."

The confusion and curiosity was now obvious on her face. Kûga gave a huff and leaned in closer, whispering, his eyes still frantically scanning the area.

"At first, when he was still usin' that blue magic, with that elven wraith still within him, it was... different from now. When he marked us with it, it fealt like someone urgin' you to fall asleep, but when you woke up you found that you killed most of the people you knew and served with. However, after he became a black rider, it somehow changed. Maybe it was because he didn't have to battle the wraith anymore, or maybe it came with being a nazgûl, but it became painful. Both shamin' and recruitment."

"So how's it better now?"

Kûga gave Idril a patient smile.

"Because the mind control thingy always wears off after 'bout three days."

Idril almost couldn't pick up her jaw from the metaphorical floor.

"You mean that..."

"... That any one of us could have betrayed you at any given point in time but we didn't? Yeap, precisely."

"How is it that Talion doesn't know?"

Kûga took another swing of from his bottle, Idril mimicking the action.

"He might not have control of our minds anymore, but through the ring, I think, he still can...I don't know... influence our minds? It feels like a sleepin' creature at the back of the head that reacts to the boss's magicks, makin' you want to obey him, thought desire can be resisted if you put your mind to it."

"So are you worried that he'll stop trusting you if he finds out."

"Nope, it's more about him bein' too thrustin' for his own good. He'll find out that we're here of our own will, he'll start puttin' a lot more trust in us and if that happens, mind you this is a big if, some stupid glob will try to kill him for it, destroyin' all the trust he had in us in the first place. No, no, no no. Its easier to let him stay unaware."

Idril took a time short time to just enjoy the warmth of the dancing flames of the slowly dying campfire. A heavy sigh of her's followed.

"This is a right sorry situation all around."

"Hmm, not as bad as it could be."

Kûga gave a somewhat depressed sounding chuckle and finished his bottle of grog. For the rest of the evening, they didn't talk much as more and more orcs started flooding into the old siege camp.

* * *

Taurband, two days later

* * *

Baranor always knew that, as a soldier, he would face many different foes in his lifetime. Whenever he fought for Minas Ithil, the vanishing sons or, most recently, for the newly restored kingdom of Núrnen side by side with both queen and Prince of the realm, while representing a nazgûl. With all that in mind, it shouldn't be surprising that he ended up fighting the very people for whose sake it was in the first place.

Considering that Taurband was mainly a farming settlement now, there wasn't much defensive force to speak of. However, they managed to hold of the gondorians long enough for their reinforcements to arrive in the form of Queen Lithariel, prince Cald and a warchief with full entourage from the main Núrnen fort.

With these numbers they were able to push the gondorians back into the fields and away from the fort itself. That is until their leading commander, Éowyn, entered the fight. The Taurband army has been swiftly pushed back, once more being forced to defend the slowly crumbling fortress walls. Some of their soldiers started loosing consciousness after almost two full days of fighting.

Baranor stepped back, closely avoiding an arrow. He duck from a swinging sword and rammed the pommel of his sword straight into the poor bastard's face, knocking him out instantly, probably breaking his nose in the process. He proceeded to coulter an attack coming from behind him, disarming and impaling the Gondorian soldier.

He climbed the nearest fortress wall, ignoring the creaking of his bones. The sight was daunting. The gondorians would soon breach the walls. He looked to the people of the fortress, who looked back at him with hopelessness, desperation and an expectation. He could not let that stand.

"Don't let up! We shan't fall this day!"

Baranor shouted orders around as the warriors of Taurband prepared for the walls to finally crumble.

And yet when the walls fell, no attackers came rushing through. Curious, Baranor looked beyond the rubble to see Éowyn mounted upon her horse, facing a figure cloaked in a blackened armour and a mask covering it's face to match. The rider's steed, darker than night itself, eyeing the army of men hungrily.

The defenders started cheering and shouting warcries as a deep fright settled upon the men of Gondor.

The spirit of vengeance has arrived.

* * *

Éowyn couldn't quite believe her eyes despite knowing the chances of it arriving.

There, upon the top of a small hill, was the black rider. Despite not seeing them she could feel it's eyes burning right through her. It's mask, thought crudely made, held the familiar symbols of a crown of Gondor.

Éowyn finally broke free of the fear that kept her lips chained, her voice carrying strong across the relatively quiet battlefield.

"Isildur?!"

The nazgûl stayed quiet for a moment longer before even acknowledging her.

" _Éowyn, Bane of the Witch king, by the ancient rights of your people, I challenge you to a duel until one of us yields or falls unconscious._ "

The ringwraith's voice seamed to belong to a soft-spoken man and yet it was cloaked with a deafening echo of the slain, the sound booming as it carried over the rows of attackers, evoking nothing but fear and dread within. They stood strong, however, their leader's courage an anchor in the sea of hopelessness.

" _There'll be no aid and no magic allowed. No killing or maiming. Only swords will be permitted. If you lose, you will order your army to return to their king as you, alongside your already captured men, will be heald hostage_."

"And what if I refuse your challenge?"

" _Then the battle will resume and you can trust me that after what you've done, we will not spare you just for the sake of it_."

As those words were said, four captains emerged from behind the hill top each leading almost a thousand soldiers to battle. Éowyn knew there were too many, yet she let nothing show upon her face.

"And if I win?"

" _Than the fortress will be yours with no more resistance and I shall put my life in your hands._ "

Éowyn looked at her soldiers. They were exhausted, many of them injured if not dead with paralysing fright in their eyes. They wouldn't last an hour. She looked up once more with fires of determination in her gaze.

"I accept."

The nazgûl gave a nod and dismounted, the Gondorian leader mirroring the creatures action. They met in the middle of the, now emptied battlefield. Each drew their sword, giving a small bow as the duel began.

* * *

The late sunny afternoon has molted into a blood red sunset and yet there was still no victor of the duel in sight.

Doesn't matter.

Blade closer to the chest. Deep breath in. Brace for impact.

**CLASH**

Éowyn barely blocked the nazgûl's attack, sparks flying everywhere as the sword trembled in her hands. She swirled her blade to try and disarm the creature and yet, it countered once more, almost burying it's pommel in her face, which she only barely sidestepped. She swung her sword at it's back, at which the wraith swiftly turned and blocked her strike landing in a defensive position, ready for her next move.

The nazgûl was showing barely any signs of getting tired all the while Éowyn was more exhausted by the minute.

She also assumed a defensive pose as the duelists slowly started circling each other. Never before was she this grateful for refusing to rest after the war of the ring and instead doing nothing but train for the past month.

Every muscle in her body screamed at her with exhaustion and yet she let nothing show. She only received a few minor cuts so far, but she knew she had to end in quick or run the risk of loosing the fight.

Éowyn barely noticed the nazgûl charging at her, but when she sidestepped it, there it was. The creatures back wide open. 

She rammed her cross-guard straight into it's back making it tumble down onto the blood stained soil, letting go of it's weapon with the force of the blow. It turned and tried to lift it's sword, but the Gondorian soldier stepped on the blade of the defiled sword while pointing her own at the wraith's neck. A smirk spread across her face.

"Do you yiel...uggh!"

The black rider kicked Éowyn in the chest, making her gasp and lose balance and, before she knew it, she found herself on the floor and facing the red sky. The nazgûl held her down with his armoured shin on her chest and other foot pinning down her now abandoned sword, pointing his own at her neck.

" _No, I don't. Do you_?"

It took a moment of short lived struggle to find out that she was well and truly trapped.

"Yes, I yield."

" _Then honour your oath and let no more die_."

She gave him a defeated nod as he let his foe stand up.

* * *

Taurband, few ours later

* * *

It was absolutely exhausting, but Talion's victory motivated the people of Taurband, soldier and civilian alike, to start repairing the damage done as soon as the Gondorian army left. Now with most of the outer walls repaired and their captives secured, people started celebrating their victory and started preparing the fallen for their last rights.

Baranor wandered seaming aimlessly through the fort. Night slowly fell upon them and Talion was still nowhere to be seen. With the Núrnen royalty giving up on the search for the day, the elderly Haradrim had still one place to search through before starting to panic.

The halls of the fort were uncharacteristically quiet, with only one or two stray civilians in sight. The staircase to reach the nazgûl's chambers felt colder and lonelier that usual. Baranor did not bother to knock, he knew well that Talion was aware of him.

He found the ringwraith undressed from hips up, his poorly bandaged back facing the old general, his scars seemingly glowing in the soft moonlight. Talion was looking out of a window just stargazing, once or twice lightly touching his face.

" _Did something happen_?"

"Well, yes. You did after all defeat...oh, my..."

Baranor was not prepared for the sight he observed when he walked around the black rider. There were two faint bruises forming on Talion's face, one on the lower right side of his chin and the other right next to his left eye. Talion was not amused.

" _Could you please stop staring_?"

"Not really? You look horrible."

Talion huffed disapprovingly.

" _She barely grazed me. Although she has a great right hook_."

The last sentence was so quiet that Baranor almost didn't catch it. He took a wet cloth out of a bucket of water, which Talion was using to clean his wounds, and started cleaning the wraith's face.

"Stop flinching! This is what's going to happen. I'll finish cleaning your wounds, you're going to go to sleep and in the morning you're going to have an audience with their majesties followed by me giving you a full report on today's events. Understood?"

Talion's voice sounded more resigned that usual, though still holding a certain spark of mischief to it.

" _Sir, yes, sir._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached a thousand hits, YEEEEEEY :D thank you so much guys for all the kudos and all the love. Hope you have a fantastic day :)


	8. Of lies and traps

The sun only just now started warming the shores of Núrn. The gentle rays looked like elven made, see through drapes, falling through the colourful stained windows, as few as there were, and delicately fell upon the mess that was the situation within the fortress's main hall.

The discussion held within Taurband has dragged on from very early morning, to the point where even Talion had to get a chair. The Núrnen's nobility elected to lead the discussion, but as noble as their goals were, the hastiness and warrior's mindset seemed to pass down the bloodline.

Prince Câld's heart was pure and he himself was daring, courageous and ambitious, however, where his mother gained compassion at his age, the price seemed to find only anger. Even now, he was occasionally throwing angry glares towards the somewhat bored looking Éowyn from behind the cover of his pale blond locks of shoulder length hair.

Thankfully, Lithariel, the newest queen of the shore, was a lot better at controlling her impulsiveness than her son, though her questions were non less vicious. She and Baranor kept up a calm demeanor throughout the meeting to the point where Talion could just lean back in his chair and listen. 

They held up a light conversation about strategy and resources, occasionally giving an underhanded comment or question to Éowyn, who absentmindedly shot back responses without even looking at them. Instead her eyes were fixed upon the hooded fell rider opposite her, trying to show all her discomfort, anger and annoyance upon her face, to the point where the grunts stationed behind her, tensed up with anticipation.

The, now basically two way, discussion kept dragging on even now, slowly, but surely chipping of small peaces of Éowyn's patience which already suffered under her growing uneasiness of just existing within enemy walls. The talking of the people around her slowly started fading into the background, getting more and more mashed together.

"Why are you doing this?"

The suprise rang in the silence of the group with Baranor giving their quest a tired look.

"Well, despite what the west may believe, men and orcs alike prefer a roof over their head instead of the sky..."

"No. Why keep more prisoners than you need for negotiations? Why involve us in the goings of this fort, in fact, why involve ME in this meeting in the first place? What is your reason for this?"

Lithariel's light giggle filled the room.

"I hope you didn't expect to be treated as guests after waging war on my kingdom, my dear. The least you and that rabble of men you lead can do is to work of a part off the damage you caused."

"Or is it that you expected us to torment you? Because that can be arranged..."

Unsurprisingly, the princeling's gleeful smirk almost mediately fell of his face as all the gathered around, even the two footsoldiers and the untill now uninterested nazgûl, pierced him each with a mix of judgement and disapproval in their gaze. Prince Câld squirmed under the fury aimed at him, mumbling a quiet 'I'm just saying' under his breath. Baranor ran a hand through his snow white hair.

"We need you to understand the gravity of your destruction. As noble a cause as you think yourself to have, it should never have justified the destruction you inflicted upon the people of this land. I might have had more respect for you, if you at the very least attacked a military base instead of farmers."

Éowyn narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head a little to the side.

"Farmers? Taurband has never been known for more than being a slave market."

Lithariel gave the Gondorian captain her most queenly look she could muster, occasionally throwing daggers in her son's direction.

"Well, lady Éowyn, that's where rangers usually come in. If you'd have even send just one, you would have found out this settlement's true purpose. Instead of dealing with your warmongering, we could have been solving other matters of survival."

The shield maiden looked straight into the queen's eyes, despite the uneasiness building up inside her.

"And what rangers are you talking of your highness? For, if I'm not mistaken, out rangers have been taken by mordorian forces."

" _Whenever they've been taken or otherwise, I highly doubt they were the only rangers within your ranks_."

Talion's voice carried light within the hall, but still with the echo of death in it's wake. Éowyn fought the tremor which spread from her very core, hoping to burn a hole in the creature's hood with her vengeful glare and tear the light smirk off of the visible part of the black rider's face. Instead, his smirk deepened a little with her annoyance.

" _Their highnesses and the dear High-General are right on all accounts. However, besides wanting to ask you the questions you so gracefully refused to answered, we wanted to give you a chance to send a message to the gondorians_."

Éowyn raised a brow.

"What?"

"We have to contact your leader someday and considering that we plan on using one of you men to do it, we would appreciate your input on which one of them would stand a slimmer of hope when navigating the terrain or at the very least wouldn't run back when faced with the fauna of Mordor. And on that note we would like to offer you a chance at sending a message alongside our requests."

Needless to say that Lithariel saying this to a wall instead of the shield maiden herself, was less then flattering in Éowyn's eyes. Then again, this could be her chance to pass on some intel to the Gondorian troops or write a letter to Faramir, considering that this could be her last chance to say goodbye to her beloved. Her face softened just a little before throwing a firm gale where she expected the gravewalker's eyes to be.

"Then I accept, but I do have a few questions of my own."

Cáld snorted lightly.

"Well then ask. Though I don't think you have much ground to demand answers."

Éowyn simply smiled and leaned forward in her chair, making sure she had the nazgûl's full attention.

"Can I choose anyone to do this?"

" _As long as their able-bodied and they're not you, then yes_."

She gave a small nod.

"That's understandable. Will they get appropriate equipment for this journey?"

Baranor gave a tired sigh and cut Talion off, before he could even answer.

"Yes, including supplies and weapons. And, before you ask, no, we won't read the letter you'll write. You will have to hurry with the writing and choosing, however. We need the messenger out of the outpost by mid-day. Soldiers, please bring our guest some ink, quill and parchment. Guard her while she writes and call for a captain when she's done. Now if that's all, I believe this meeting is at an end. Your Highnesses, you're still invited to..."

"Wait... I have one last question."

All of them stopped in the middle of getting up, some giving the shield maiden of Rohan an annoyed glare and some looking at her with curiosity in their eyes. Cáld rolled his eyes yet Éowyn elected to ignore him once more.

"What?"

"What happened to my reinforcements?"

The Gondorian leader leaned just a little forward, allowing her anger to manifest upon her face. The sight took the company slightly aback, except for Talion, how tilted his head to the sight a little in curiosity.

" _What reinforcements_?"

"There was supposed to be an ambush from behind your lines, coming from the old forests."

The air in the hall shifted somehow. It suddenly felt weighted down by grief and sympathy. If she didn't know better, Éowyn would have thought that the nazgûl was actually remorseful.

" _I'm sorry for your fallen, but even I wouldn't dare to enter the forests of Carnán uninvited_."

* * *

The Gondorian encampment, three days later

* * *

Eltariel's head pounded as she tried her best to keep her eyes open. It's been days since she, and what was left of the Gondorian forces she was leading, saw a clear patch of sky unobscured by the leaves and branches of the horror that Carnán proved to be. She knew that the forests were once allied with Talion and Celebrimbor, but with her latest fight with the balrog and later on being burned by a necromancer, she expected the forests to be in deep slumber instead of showing aggression without even provoking. It was shocking to say the least.

The few soldiers that actually survived this long, looked about ready to collapse the moment they saw the fires of their camp. Eltariel went right after them, intending on doing the same when that familiar presence within drew her eyes to the forest line. There, in the late evening's shadows, emerged a relaxed looking Gondorian soldier, who briskly turned in the direction of the king's tent.

She barely registered how, but suddenly she found herself dragging the poor man behind her to the clearing she knew king Aragorn, high-general Dirhael and Gandalf would occupy. She threw the soldier into the ornate charcoal circle, earning looks of confusion from the three with some light annoyance on the wizard's part. She ignored all that and with a murderous look on her face she started closing the small distance between her and the now terrified soldier, her voice low and full of irritation despite her exhaustion.

"How did you do it?"

The soldier looked confused.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

Eltariel's frown deepened to the point where Aragorn had to stepp in-between her and the terrified man.

"Eltariel, calm yourself! This is no way to treat loyal soldiers...if your here, where's Éowyn? You were supposed to come here together."

Both the elf and the soldier suddenly looked absolutely distraught. Eltariel could feel all the exhaustion quickly flooding back, her tone was still angry thought now laced with regret.

"We didn't make it through the forests. As soon as we entered, Carnán started hunting us down. I'm sorry but only now did I return with a few survivors. And when I looked behind me, this one here," Eltariel spun on her heel to point her finger at the poor, trembling soldier," was casually skipping out of the cursed woods. So how is it possible that a thousand couldn't best it and just one man out of Éowyn's forces could?"

The soldier's chest felt heavier than ever before, now being under four different pairs of curious and scolding eyes. Dirhael huffed in annoyance.

"Explain yourself soldier. Where is your leader, there's the rest of your forces and how did you pass through the forest unharmed?"

"I'm sorry general, we were surrounded by the reinforcements lead by the nazgûl and I'm so sorry, but they dueled for the fortress, but the nazgûl won and I'm so incredibly sorry, because the general and about ten more of us got captured after the duel, but the rest of the army was sent away the long way around, they should be here tomorrow afternoon andtheysendmethroughwiththeselettersI'mreallysorry, sirs, ma'am I truly am, I don't know why I'm alive."

Aragorn placed a hand on the stressed soldier's shoulder, giving him a reassuring look.

"You've done well. Please, give us the letters and go rest."

Eltariel thew one last annoyed look at him, as the soldier scurried of into the encampment. The four gathered around a small fire in the middle of the now finally finished ornate circle as Aragorn opened and skimmed through one of the letters.

"This is interesting. They sent us conditions under which one of us will be able to go in and out of Minas Morgul unharmed. It seems they want to start negotiating."

Gandalf raised one of his brows, leaning a little on his staff.

"What about the other letter? What does it say?"

"It's addressed to Faramir from Éowyn. I'd rather not open it."

"Well that's sad and everything, but I do have a question."

All heads turned to Dirhael, who nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"This whole campaign has been based on a ''knowledgeable person's'' opinion on how best to free Mordor of the enemy. Mind you, I'm fine with freeing slaves, but not for this kind of a price."

Aragorn seemed distraught at his general's unexpected outburst.

"General, I hope you're not suggesting we leave our comrades in captivity."

"No, my lord. I'm suggesting we negotiate their release and draw back into Gondor. We're nowhere near ready to lead another open war against the armies of Mordor, especially after they found another uniting leader."

Eltariel's expression burned with disbelief and anger, newer breaking eye contact with the now annoyed general.

"The longer we stay inactive, the more power he gains. We can't just leave a nazgûl in existence. The only way to peace is to send that creature to the void."

"So are you the one who suggested this crusade? Trust an assassin to care for the costs payed in conflict when instead all they worry for is their own coinpurse."

"That's enough!"

The charcoal drawing under their feet started slowly pulsing with a pale blue light as Gandalf's booming voice seemed to push the air out of their lungs and the world went a little darker, even if just for a second.

"Fighting amongst ourselves won't help anything. The best thing we can do now is to take up the offer for negotiations."

"Oh, please, he's asking us to send somebody to his lair alone. He knows that under the guise of negotiations, we would send somebody with a high title. It's obviously a trap."

Gandalf huffed with annoyance.

"And yet you yourself have said we should negotiate, that you don't have enough manpower right now to wage war. We have to negotiate. There's no other way."

" _There is one other way_."

The voice was deep and despite sounding pleasant, chilled Dirhael and Aragorn to their bones. The reverbed voice seemed to come from absolutely nowhere until the glow from under their feet moved to a spot between Eltariel and Gandalf, forming a transparent figure. The wraith resembled an elf, but instead of the beautiful features of a living elf, the ghost's face was fallen through, resembling an old corpse.

_"I was partially responsible for creating the nazgûl you're facing. He cannot be killed. Like the others, he used to be a man once. After his death I reforged him into a undying spirit of vengeance, banished from death to forever hunt down those responsible for his previous fall. You cannot defeat him in conventional means. So why not do something he'll never expect_?"

Gandalf frowned at the wraith, anger clear on his face.

"Don't you dare take advantage of this situation like that, Celebrimbor. You might have been imprisoned and tortured by Sauron, but that does not absolve you of your actions."

"And what would you do?" Eltariel's voice was full of desperation and sadness. "Even if we managed to kill or capture him, his followers wouldn't just run away like they did with Sauron thanks to him sharing some of his immediate power, mind you, they'd probably just grow vengeful like their master."

" _Not to mention that with my ring under his command he is effectively unbreakable. Whenever he realises it or not_."

Dirhael jaw hit the metaphorical floor as Aragorn struggled to get his word out.

"What...ring...are you talking about?"

" _In the fires of Mount Doom I forged a new ring of power, strong enough to challenge Sauron while he was weakened by the absence of his own. However, it's purpose, to be a weapon against the dark lord, has been fulfilled and thus holds almost no power anymore. The only reason why the nazgûl is able to use it, is because I used him to forge it before he was corrupted_."

Dirhael rubbed his face and gave an exhausted sigh. 

"So what do we do? Considering that we have even a slither of a fighting chance against a ring-of-power-wielding nazgûl."

" _We have to assure that Mordor is restored to light, not the shadows_."

"What we need to do is to at the very least try and negotiate!" The now tired and a little desperate sounding Gandalf turned to the king and his general. "Yes, he is a nazgûl now, but he was a man once. We must at least try and reason with him. If we just try and overthrow him, he will see it as an act of aggression and declare war. Allow me to go to the negotiations on behalf of Gondor. We have to at least try."

Aragorn, for a moment, looked to the ground, deep in thought. When he looked up again, his distrustful eyes were fixed upon the elven blacksmith.

"Then we'll do so, but if that fails... what would you suggest we do, Celebrimbor?"

The wraith gave the man a gentle smile.

" _It's nothing drastic. I say let them have their kingdom, but under our guidance. The ring he wears provides us with this option._

_Let me dominate him_."


	9. The breaker of chains

The sky was so dark that Torvin would sooner categorize it as a night instead of an early morning. He breathed in the cold air, shivering a little, despite the volcanic landscape around him.

Even against the hot orange light of lava around them, the dwarf hunter was barely able to keep track of the dark silhouette of a northman before him as their hunt took the pair deeper and deeper into the hellish landscape that is Gorgoroth.

Talion moved swiftly and quietly, his burning green eyes always keeping to the trail he somehow managed to loose track of two times already. Maybe, after all the months of endless warfare, endless peace talks planning and sleep-infusing politics, the ranger was finally running out of steam. Torvin stroked his regrowing and slowly graying beard.

"How are ya holdin' up cap'n? Ye don' look too well."

Only the low rumble of the volcano in the distance and the dwarf's tired huff could be heared as Talion, as silent as death, jumped over another obstacle in his way, seemingly not registering Torvin's question.

"Ya know I have the utmost respect for the hunt, but I think ye might be going a bit overboard."

Nothing but the Mount Doom's ambience followed once more as Talion kept on following the rebel captain's tracks. Torvin frowned.

"Look cap'n, if you don't wanna talk than just-uh!"

Talion suddenly dragged the confused hunter behind a few boulders, carefully peeking out of their hiding place.

"What do ye think yer..."

" _Calm down, just look_."

Torvin followed the ranger's gaze and true enough, a few hundred meters away from their hiding spot, was the subject of their hunt, the fallen warchief Hûga Sharpshooter. The rebel orc seemed to have finally gone crazy. He was shooting at all the different columns of rising dark smoke, while shouting random profanities without any rhyme or reason to it.

Torvin did his best to look for the rebel captain's target, but saw nothing but a lot of smoke and a fast moving dark cloud. A curiously fast cloud actually, which was getting closer to Hûga by the second. The last thing Torvin registered before being dragged back behind the boulders was Hûga's agonized cries, a stream of lava-like heat and a pair of fiery eyes in the smoke looking straight at him.

Even despite the thick wall of rock between them and the captain, Torvin could still feel the hell that was unleashed upon the unfortunate orc. It seemed almost like an eternity before the hysterical cries of the orc finally stopped and with them the torturous heat. There was a moment of silence before Talion stood up and started to make his way out of their hiding spot. Torvin must have sounded more distressed than he thought based on the nazgûl's expression.

"What do ya think yer doin'? Have ye lost yer mind? Ye will get burned as well!"

" _No, I won't_."

The hunter only barely resisted the urge to slap of Talion's smirk of his face. He still tried his best to hold the now seemingly crazy ranger back and yet, Talion had a kind of certainty to his step. Despite the growing dread within him, Torvin couldn't help himself but watch from behind the rocks and boulders as Talion stood right next to the burned corpse that used to be Hûga and stared straight into the two fiery dots within the smoke.

After a moment of absolute silence, the tense moment was somewhat lightened as the eyes gave the nazgûl a slow blink. With a few soft clicking noises the eyes lovered down and out of the smoke revealing one, if not the biggest elemental Firedrake that Torvin's ever seen. Talion's smile widened as his hellish green eyes softened significantly.

" _I have missed you, beautiful_."

The drake gave out a satisfied bark-like sound, keeping her head low to the ground, showing her submission, as she carefully approached the smiling nazgûl.

The drake itself was, in Torvin's eyes at least, absolutely stunning to behold. It was twice as big as a fellbeast, if not a little bigger, with scales as black as obsidian and as shinny as glass. Under every scale, there was a soft orange glow of the fires within the drake which almost completely enfolded the skin parts of the wings, making them look as if they were made of living lava. Instead of the usual skull-like head-armouring, this drake's head was a smooth black piece of a scale armour with the it morphing into two horns at the broader end. In addition to having the two wings and two strong hind legs, this drake also grew a pair of small front legs, even though they were too fin and small as to be used for anything but balance purposes. The beast was a source of immense heat to the point where Torvin had a difficulty breathing even from behind the rocks.

As if not registering the creature's scourging temperature, rows of sharp teeth and sharp but interested look, Talion brought the drake's head closer to his own, simply examining the curious eyes looking back at him.

" _You don't trust the eyes, do you_?"

The drake crooned softly and carefully leaned into Talion's touch, rubbing the side of it's face into his palm. Talion started caressing the now satisfied looking drake.

" _You can come out now, Torvin. She will not attack, thought she might be curious_..."

Talion fell to his knees and absentmindedly started caressing the, now lying down, drake which purred happily. Torvin, still not quite willing to believe in the drake's apparent friendliness, carefully came out of his hiding place, taking calculated steps towards his friend. The drake eyed the dwarf as he approached, but was too distracted with Talion to actually care about the hunter himself.

"Who's yeh friend there, cap'n?"

Talion gave him a light-hearted smile.

" _She used to be my mount to the end of shadow wars. I had no idea she survived the last eruption of mount Doom_."

Torvin's brows furrowed, in combination with a light smile, furrowed in interest.

"Does the lady have a name?"

Talion, to the mild discontent of the drake, stopped caressing the pitch black scales in favour of trying to fish out some kind of information out of his broken mind. It took a moment for the nazgûl to move again.

" _Not one that I can recall_."

"Want to give 'er one now? I'd be a right shame for a beautiful beast like 'er to go without."

There was silence once more, but it has weighted down with the ranger's palpable and yet unspoken sadness.

" _I've never been good with names_."

"'S fine, no need to get grumpy 'bout it. Though yeh drake did interrupt our hunt and it's not like we're goin' to get much intel out of the bastard now."

Torvin poked the burned husk of the deceased orc with the tip of his boot moments before the drake rushed it and started flinging it left and right like a chewing toy. Talion, still sitting on the ground, watched the scene with a certain content to his expression. Torvin finally closed the distance between himself and his hunting partner, plopping down next to him with a heavy sigh.

"Well, now're we goin' back home with a drake? It's not like we can leave it 'ere."

" _We are not_."

"Come again?"

" _I mean, we are not going back just yet_."

"'nd why's that?"

" _Well first off, that_ " Talion gestured towards the drake who was still tearing the corpse to pieces, " _is not normal behaviour_."

Torvin lighted his pipe, puffing small clouds of smoke.

"I s'pose, if she were on an actual hunt, she wouldn't have used 'er firebeathing to kill the pray of and she most certainly wouldn' 'ave done... whatever she's doin' to it right now."

The nazgûl gave a light smile of content.

" _Precisely. She is not just hunting, she's hunting somebody down, which actually brings me to my second point_."

The dwarf raised a brow in curiosity.

"Which's?"

" _Slave liberation, my friend. Her next target is, not just a thief, but also a slaver_."

Torvin couldn't help but let the grimace of disgust appear on his features.

"So... When ya wanna do this?"

* * *

Gorgoroth plains, 3 hours later

* * *

  
Torvin thought he was going to cave in from not being able to catch his breath for the past few hours. He lost Talion multiple times, only being able to locate him thanks to the oddly shaped smoky disguise of his drake, continuously flying circle around him. Needless to say that catching up to him took the dwarf a few minutes, barely getting any breath in put of exhaustion.

"I don't usually like to be that person, but are we there yet? Don't know how much longer I can run."

Talion let out an amused chuckle.

" _Don't worry, my friend. We're almost there_."

True to his word, it took them only an hour of agonizing sprint to finally reach the top of a small hill, overlooking a, very obviously, quite newly build rebel outpost.

The wooden walls of the outpost, which were a hazard by themselves, were made of fresh wood not bearing any signs of a battle. The outpost was mainly composed of flimsy looking tents and rusting cages, with only the main building being somewhat competent looking, considering that it was carved into the face of the mountain that the outpost leaned against. The stone structure was not of orc origin as it lacked the sharp efficiency and convenience of their usual architectural design. Instead, despite still seaming simplistic, the structure two identifiable floors, with a few decorative miniature towers and some pillars at it's entrance with a few them creating a pathway a little ways into the outpost itself.

Despite it's relatively small size however, the slaver's den was very heavily patrolled. There were about fifty grunts on and outside the walls with and at the very least a hundred grunts and five captains inside, poking the slaves through the cage bars, laughing brutishly as they did so.

Even with the slaughter tribe insignia on the banners all around the outpost, one could very easily confuse it for that of the mythic tribe, considering all the bones and rotting corpses all around the outpost as well as adoring the outpost's main, and only, building and outer walls.

Despite the distance between them and the outpost, Torvin still reflexively shifted behind a boulder a little, disgusted by the stench of death while Talion came out of their temporary hiding place, sitting on top of the rocky formation, with the drake laying underneath him, and glaring at the constructs as if wishing them to burn where they stood.

"There's too many, cap'n. Ye might want to get some reinforcements for this one."

There was a short pause. Talion's voice was like a low rumble, his eyes never leaving the slave outpost as he spoke.

" _I- We can not leave them like this, even if just for a day or two. This outpost will burn and it will burn_ _today_."

"Don't think it'll be that easy just by seein' all the grunts around. They'll see us if we sneak and simply cut us down. Not to mention that we don't even know who's lead the rubble of graug dung."

" _What's actually a good point_..."

"I know it is."

"... _We'll need a distraction big enough to draw most of the orcs into the main building or_..."

"What? Wait, no! That's not... Look," At this point Torvin was completely out of his hiding place, forgetting the smell that he tried to shield himself from, "if ye really want to save 'hem than ye'll need more then just glorious me and yeh fiery lady over there."

" _I agree. Which is why I'll need you to direct the slaves out of the outpost as I and my soon to be associates distract the slavers and my 'fiery lady' burns the whole damn place to the ground_."

Torvin's confusion was almost palpable and yet a light smile appeared upon his face.

"What did ya've planed this time?"

Talion smiled a small, exited smile.

" _Can you whistle_?"

Torvin's eyebrow shot up so fact it could have flown of completely.

* * *

Slaver outpost, 30 minutes later

* * *

  
Chaos. That is the only word that came to Skág the Master's mind as he looked out over his outpost.

And to think that all the chaos and fear was caused by a single pink skin turned shrieker, making orc turn on orc or scaring the grunts into fleeing simply with his presence. Whoever dared to stand in his way was cut down without a single word or acknowledgement, always getting closer to Skág's personal fortress.

Those of his remaining grunts that managed to survive, without being raised to betray their comrades to the cloaked nazgûl, were following the group of corpses to the main building's entrance, swords drawn and spitting different insults at the shrieker and his newly acquired company but still keeping out of the reach of their swords.

A wide, but crooked smirk appeared on the warchief's face as he turned to his now somewhat panicked looking followers.

"Finally, the tark has come. Prepare the slaves!"

* * *

  
Talion opened the heavy double-door with a well practiced motion. His black armoured boots clacked against the polished stone fool. His newly 'recruited' followers moved quickly despite being undead behind him, closing and barricading the doors from the now somewhat angered mob of orcs, leaning against the iron ornamented masterwork just for good measure.

No, this was most definitely not an orc structure by origin.

Strangely enough Talion's footsteps, the soft clinging of his dark armour and the gentle swaying of rusty cages hanging from the ceiling in combination with the muffled anger from behind the iron gate were the only sounds resonated throughout the stone hall.

Surprisingly, besides the hanging cages above his head and a few misplaced grog barrels, the halls were neat and full of heavy stillness. There were a few doors to the sides of the hall, but Talion's gaze lay upon the biggest doors at the end of it, the smell of blood coming from them field his rage and gave haste to his every step, twirling his green glowing blade in anticipation of a battle.

Barging through the dark wooden door revealed a sight which Talion could only ever compare to the dungeons of Barad-dûr when it still stood. His stomach almost turned in on himself at the sight of the walls covered with human and orc dried skins, contrasting floor of dried blood and a kind of an altar made of bone and rags.

Talion's eyes met that of his grinning rival's, burning with rage. Skág's deep laughter engulfed the hall like the roll of an immense and remote drum beating the charge of an army. The sound was so loud to the point where the ranger didn't even register the carnal noises from the orc's lackeys frown his way as they encircled and blocked his way.

As if trying to pour more salt to the injury, Skág apparently was of the opinion that dragging, what looked to be, an eight year old by her hair as he stepped in front of the sadistic altar, seemingly taking great joy in the sobbing child's attempts of freeing herself from Skág's iron grip while muttering inaudible please of mercy.

The orc captain's voice remained amused and pleased as he spoke.

"Look what've we 'ere boys, his royal highness the _Gravewalker_."

A hungry sniggering rang out of the group as their leader mockingly bowed. Talion dared not break the back of the silence building up with the rage and insults that would undoubtedly come out. Skág turned his head to the side in a moment of confusion.

"Not so talkative as I thought, are ye _my lord_?"

Silence followed once more. The orcs didn't seem as amused as before. Skág growled.

"Speak you fucking tark!"

To the orc's infuriation, the hooded nazgûl turned to the shaking girl, his eyes unseen but still felt a the child quieted down and returned the gaze, worry and anticipation radiating out of her soul in waves.

" _Close your eyes, my child. You don't need to witness what is to come next_."

The girl's frightened yelp was only the peak of the fright and coldness that filled the room. Despite himself, Skág, just like his followers, took a step back in a pointless effort to try and dodge the reverbed voice. He growled and put his knife to the girl's neck, only enforcing the child's crying.

"YOU... aren't gonna do a thing! Move a muscle and she dies, ya HEAR ME?! You'ren't goin' to be the end of me or anyone 'ere except the lil' swine, got it!?"

Talion's head shot up, the visible part of his face as if carved of stone.

" _No, I will not. But, then again, I am not the only one who seeks your death_."

A sew seconds were the precursor to Skág's hysterical and yet relieved bark-like laughter.

"You-you knew you'd never be able to kill me did ye? So who was it supposed to be? Who's supposed end me, hmm? O-one of those traitor you order around? O-or was it-was it supposed to be done by-* _ahaha_ * by one of aHAhaha one of those useless shrack of a slave hoard? * _HAHAHAHA-AAAAAh_ *!!!"

A content smile spread upon Talion's face as he and the horrified orc lackeys watched the orc captain be raised a little into the air, choked by the green transparent hand.

" _You were pretty close, I admit. Though not quite_."

The ghost slave's face twisted into a deranged grin as he threw Skág against the altar, turning next to the now frantic grunts. And yet... he didn't move. He couldn't. The ghost's eyes could have burned a hole in the nazgûl's arm that was holding him back. Talion didn't even glance at the spectre, instead choosing to stare at the floor.

" _You're_ _free to kill, but if you kill anybody besides your captors you will answer to my wrath_."

The ghost let out an unearthly growl as more ghosts started joining the hunt for revenge. With all the wraiths out of the room, Talion turned his eyes back to the rasping Skág, lying in the pool of his own black blood. His eyes were quickly becoming more and more unfocused as he tried his best to throw his hateful blare at the indifferent nazgûl, a small smirk on his face.

"My * _cough_ *... brother will avan* _cough_ *ge me."

Talion's head fell to the side as he put his still glowing short into it's scabbard.

" _Brother_?"

Despite being pained by the action, Skág put on display his crooked teeth in a somewhat victorious smirk.

"Brother, * _cough_ * yes, Hûga..."

The nazgûl got down on his knee, making sure the dying orc heared every word.

" _Your brother is dead_."

The frozen expression of shock and terror on Skág's corpse evoked nothing but the expanding feeling of emptiness within Talion. The nazgûl's brooding was interrupted by a soft, heartbreaking sound. There, on the bony altar, cried the little slave girl over the corpse of Skág's bane. Talion grabbed a ring of keys off of the orc's belt, moving softly, but still making sound as to make sure he doesn't startle the child more than she already was. He stood about two meters away from the child, taking a moment to survey the sight.

The girl couldn't have been older than five years old, with her unwanted and unkept blond hair falling over her face and hiding it out of Talion's sight. Her arms and legs were dirty to the point of being blackened as the rags she wore barely hanged off of her fragile looking body. Talion chose to concentrate his eyes upon the dead man's pale, hairless face, knowing that his voice will scare the child enough without seeing his eyes, still ablaze with anger.

" _I... know this is hard for you_."

The girl only hurried herself deeper crying harder, whimpering between the heaving sobs with only one phrase that Talion could make out.

"I wan' papa back!"

That was enough to knock the air out of Talion's lungs, leaving him speechless for almost a full minute.

" _I'm sorry little one, but he's not coming back_..."

"NO! You lie! He always come back fo' me! He promis!"

" _I'm afraid that not this time_..."

There was a few minute pause before the child's sobbing quieting down a little. The girl looked at Talion, her unwashed face only emphasizing her big brown eyes, fresh tears running down her fallen in face.

"How do you know?"

Talion threw a quick glance a the still mistrustful but curious girl before, finally, making his mind up. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, leaning is back against a near by wall. He started slowly unwrapping the bandages on his left hand revealing the hole punctured by the Hammer as well as the half-awake silver ring.

" _Because I'm dead as well_."

Whenever transfixed by the wound or the ring itself, the girl, thought still occasionally hiccuping with tears here and there, slowly got off the altar, carefully approaching the nazgûl and inspecting his extended hand. Talion did his best to stay still and to not give into the flinching, knowing that any sudden move could scare the child of.

The girl inspected the hand from every angle, tried to read the writing on the rind and even pot her finger into the gaping wound just to see if it was real. Talion waited until the child looked calm and distracted enough to speak once more.

" _Don't worry, little one. Death is just another journey, one that everyone has to take. And once you go down that path, you shall see it_."

The, now intrigued, child listened with a sense of wonder.

"See what?"

" _White shores, and beyond, a far green country with our pa, smiling, waiting for you there_."

The tears stared, although quietly, flow down from the huge brown orbs once more.

"I wanna go now..."

" _I know. But, not just yet. Who would be here to write your adventures_?"

The kid's eyes, if it even were possible, widened more with curiousity.

"Adventures?"

" _Yes, you can_ _still_ _grow up to be a magical healer, a daring explorer or even a... What's wrong little one_?"

The child was very obviously on the verge of another breakdown as she spoke in-between her raspy sobs.

"Am I free?"

Talion was surprised to say the least. He expected this question of the adults that understood the condition that they were in, never a child. He carefully shifted himself from his sitting position into kneeling down upon one knee before the hopeful girl, never taking his hand out of her terrifyingly weak grip, so that he was on her eye-level.

" _If I may ask, what's your name my lady_?"

The child just stood there, quietly stunned for a moment with a ghost of a smile, even if just for a moment, appearing upon the girl's face.

"I'm Kaia."

" _It's an honour to get to know you. You can call me Talion and on that name I promise that you are and always will be free. Ok_?"

All the child managed to do was to shake her head in agreement. Talion gave the tired Kaia a light smile.

" _Good. Now, how would you like to see baby drakes_?"

"Baby dragons?"

Kaia say still sounding sad, but curious as well, yawning greatly as she asked Talion to pick her up with a gesture. The ranger happily obliged as he carefully stood up, the little girl nestling down against his chest plate.

" _No, drakes are a little different_."

Talion walked out of the disturbing rooms and into the halls taking a turn every now and then, answering Kaia's questions until the exhausted child fell asleep in his arms. He didn't fear any ambushes at this point, he could feel nothing but death around him, except for a few signatures of life. It took about fifteen minutes to find them, but he was finally free to walk out of the disrespected structure, a starving human child in one hand and six starving drake children in the other. At least he was able to grab a basket for the latter on the way out.

The rising sun illuminated the plains of Gorgoroth with an orange and yet somehow cold light. Torvin seamed a little shocked by Kaia, but chose not to question it as the adult drake made a b-line for the whimpering basket.

"S'pose the transparent ones were called by ye then."

" _Yes, but we should move quickly back. We don't have enough supplies to keep the refugees alive for long_."

"And what do you plan to do with us?"

One of the adult slaves asked, supporting the weight of an orc slave. The whole group turned it's attention to the nazgûl and dwarf duo.

"Ye're free to do as ye wish. Ye're no slaves any more. If ye come with us to Minas Morgul we'll either give ye a home, food and a job or supplies for yeh journey onward."

"What about the lizards?"

One of the slaves pointed to the happy mother drake looking into the basked with little drakeling heads streching out towards her on noodle-like necks, making happy clicking, and what almost sounded like cooing, noises in response to their curious parent. Putting down the basket, minding the six drakelings as well as the sleeping girl, Talion looked straight at the slaves, ignoring the pounding headache.

" _The... 'lizards' are none of your concern_."

Like a herd of sheep, the slaves hurled together, terror on every one of their faces before the reverb from Talion's voice settled down.

"It's a nazgûl!"

"HE set ye free! Either calm down an' come with us or take the supplies an' leave."

Torvin's presence, however physically small, was enough to get through to the refugees and get them moving. Torvin turned to Talion who seemed too preoccupied with watching the drakes. The dwarf came to stand next to his hunting partner, giving him a quick a quick look before turning to face.

"Well, at least one of 'hem likes ye."

Talion let out a soft sigh.

" _She was in shock. No doubt she would trust whoever showed any sympathy at that point_."

Torvin, obviously getting tired, simply rolled his eyes.

"Whenever she did or not, we still need to move a bloody big group to the bastion. Come on cap'n, there's no rest for us yet."

Talion turned his gaze to the ground.

" _You were right_."

Torvin raised an eyebrow at the fallen ranger who smiled softly in return.

" _We do need to start an actual orphanage_."

* * *

Meanwhile, miles and miles away

* * *

"They're not asking for anyone impartial, they're asking for a representative of Gondor and as much as I agree with your point of view, you have to agree that..."

" _That, with you being a Maiar, you are still one of the worst choices available_?"

Gandalf threw the see-through wraith an annoyed glare, about ready to throw his politeness out the window, but he still did not answer. Celebrimbor, once again, had a point. After almost an hour of listening to both sides of the argument, Aragorn finally felt confident enough to face the duo. It took him just a moment to put on his kingly face, showing the wraith that his mind was set.

" I appreciate your suggestions, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."

" _Than prepare that it'll most probably refuse to speak to any of you in the first place. I admit that by leaving the nazgûl behind, I might have worsened it's scepticism_."

Aragorn took a sip of his wine before answering the concerned looking elf king, he himself trying to look assured of his opinion.

"Well, it's like you said. He's a nazgûl now, meaning he doesn't have much ground to stand on, especially in negotiations."

Celebrimbor took a step back.

" _Not to mention that we have certain someones whom he'd like back_."

Gandalf glared at the wraith angrily.

"Do not think yourself above morality. You of all cannot afford such a lie. The rangers could provide us with some ground for negotiations, yes, but you're missing something extremely important."

Celebrimbor frowned.

" _What am I missing_?"

"They're children. We do not gamble with children's lives. No matter how convenient or beneficial the risk might seem."

Celebrimbor barely even managed to open his mouth to answer when a cascade of screams could be heard from the prisoners tent. Brandishing their weapons, both Aragorn and Gandalf rushed out of the king's tent ignoring all the shocked and confused faces around them. Despite not seeing him, Aragorn could still feel the wraith's presence next to him as they ran.

The scene within the the tent was as if out of a fewer dream. There, on the ground lay an exhausted but otherwise unharmed looking Éowyn. Leaning against the cells was an uruk, dark skin drenched in blood and sweat, trying his best to push out the sword's blade. The furious Grand-general, however, Heald it steadily in place.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!!!"

Dirhael's voice was full of spite and anger as he screamed at the laughing uruk. That's when Aragorn finally looked beyond them. The cells were empty with one of the Gondorian soldiers lying on the ground dead next to them, blood stains all over the iron bars. A chill went down his spine as Dirhael pressed on.

"SPEAK YOU FILTH!!!"

It took a moment for the wet laughter to stop. The uruk looked up with a wide grin on his face. However, his eyes seemed to have some distant glow to them. His breath was heavily laboured.

"Take your vengeance, tark. Seal your victory."

Gandalf stepped next to the hurting Grand-general, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"This is not wise, my friend. Nor does this decision lie with you alone. We'll gain nothing out of his death and Mordor could just send another. But, if we imprison him..."

Dirhael ripped himself out of the wizard's grasp.

"Against his kind there can only be blood for blood!"

Dirhael's sword cut through the orc's abdomen like butter, sending a spray of black flying around the tent. The uruk fell to the ground with a thud, his maniacal grin deepening as he started slowly drowning in his own blood.

"So much for your... unity. The trap... at last... has... sprang......."

With those words, the light left the orc's eyes as he finally stopped moving. Celebrimbor chose this moment to reappear once more, leaning over the corpse as Aragorn and Gandalf checked on Éowyn.

" _It seems that our enemy realized the importance of the 'children' as well_."

There was no time to answer the wraiths mockery as the camp descended to chaos, with Aragorn already organising search parties for any other soldiers that might have escaped with Éowyn, Gandalf treating the already mentioned commander and Dirhael just sitting in the corner of the tent, still in shock from what might have happened.

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
**Hi everyone! Sorry for taking so incredibly long to bring you this chapter. I've been having some issues at school and with midterms coming soon I chose to concentrate more on my studies rather than writing, but I think it'll please you to hear that I am done scheming the overall plot, allowing me to just concentrate on writing individual chapters. That being said I hope you have a fantastic rest of the day. :)**


	10. Eye for an eye: part 1

There was nothing but strained silence and a quiet desire to kill within the medwing hallway. Talion and Idril, like a pair of inpatient predators, paced the opposite sides of the echoing hallway. Baranor sat on a chair, next to a pair of wooden doors, face in his hands. His voice was very much tired and impatient sounding.

"Could you two stop pacing?"

" _No_."

"Why should I?"

Baranor, unfazed by the growls, somewhat lifted his face out of his hands, looking more and more tired by the minute.

"You two pacing around just makes me more nervous."

Both gave a heavier growl than before, but, to his credit, Talion stopped his pacing while Idril's only intensified.

"It helps calm ME down!"

Baranor signed, knowing that his request was futile.

"And yet it's not helping Redd and the group of rangers led."

Another set of growls followed.

" _And yet all we can do is just stand around, still not contributing anything to their unforeseeable recovery._ "

Talion crossed his arms as his furious gaze fixated upon the wooden door to Baranor's side.

" _What's taking so long_?"

With a heavy sigh, Talion fell into a chair opposite Baranor, absentmindedly fiddling with the silver ring on his hand as Idril finally stopped her pacing. Both her and Baranor fell silent for a moment, watching the shining band, it's carved elven scripts lightly pulsing with green light.

"You know that there's a verse about the ring, right?"

Idril's voice carried carefully through the hallway as a somewhat amused smirk appeared upon the nazgûl's face, yet not reaching his hellish eyes.

" _Oh my, already? That didn't take long. And what exactly does the verse say_?"

One of Baranor's brows rose up.

"You don't know the verse?"

" _I thought that was obvious_."

Idril's brows almost audibly furrowed.

"But it was written on the doors of your then tomb."

" _It might have. But, then again, I was on the other side of said door_."

Idril finally sat down next to Baranor, just as she followed Talion's example and fixed her furious gaze upon, still closed, wooden medwing doors. The heavy silence was only lifted by the elder Haradrim.

"Would you be able to read it if we showed you?"

Talion, finally, shifted his gaze from the door and onto the ceiling, for a moment deep in thought.

" _Well... That depends on the script as well as the language of._.."

Talion suddenly shot up from his seat, immediately followed by the confused Idril and Baranor.

"What's happening?"

Baranor's question fell on deaf ears as the nazgûl was transfixed upon the medbay door. It took what seemed like an eternity for the door to finally open and reveal the three healers. The two men and an orc stood nervously before the leaders of Mordor, apparently deciding that the floor was far more intriguing.

" _Well?... How are they doing_?"

The healers exchanged knowing looks before turning to the worried ranger and his companions. The elder man of the group of healers spoke.

"They're alive, but the condition that they're in... It is best if you see for yourselves."

Suddenly, heavy and fast steps could be heared down the hall which only stopped after carrying their owner into a crash with Talion's back armour. The nazgûl carefully untangled Ralla out of his cloak before finally turning to her.

"Where were you?"

Idril's voice seemed concerned on the surface, but carried suspicion within for anybody who's looking to see. Ralla was obviously confused.

"What?"

" _Considering your... infatuation with Redd, we thought you'd be here sooner_."

Ralla unceremoniously frowned at Talion, her words dripping poison.

"I was busy."

Keeping his face as neutral as possible, the ranger turned on his heel and went after the nervous healers into the bastion's halls of healing, closely followed by the three human soldiers.

The halls of healing, thankfully, weren't as crowded as usual, with only a few wounded and a couple sick laying in the beds around them. The healers took them to the far end of the halls where the rangers lay motionless. Their eyes were half open, absently staring at the chandelier above their heads. They were almost as pail as Talion, their eyes all glossy black with something akin to a pale light behind them. Whenever it being unnatural or just their consciousness shining through was difficult to tell.

Ralla sat next to Redd, carefully caressing his hand as Baranor and Idril checked on the rest of the rangers. Talion remained standing next to the healers, not quite able to bring himself to join the others. His voice was mostly neutral, but carried an underlying tone of anger and hopelessness.

" _What happened to them_?"

The oldest healer shifted slightly.

"We do not know. Physically speaking, their perfectly fine. They've got no injuries besides a few bruises. By all rights they should be up and running, but it seems as if they returned only in bodies, not in minds."

" _Could the escaped gondorians have been responsible or even contracted the same... disease_?"

The old healer stroked his gray beard as the orc of the group carefully came forward.

"It's doubtful, boss. They most probably just ran away without knowin' 'bout the rangers."

Talion's only response was to nod his head in approval. The serene moment was broken however, by the muffled angry shouts and cries outside, the courtyard by the sounds of it. Talion shot the stained windows an uneasy glare, trying to catch as much of what was being said as possible.

" _Ralla, what did you say you were doing before getting here_?"

The captain in question growled, her furious gaze grazing the nazgûl only momentarily.

"Why?"

"You were the last to come. He's asking because you've most likely saw something that could have brought them here. So, please, just answer him, will you?"

Baranor's voice seemed to get more and more tired by the second and yet Ralla tore her angry gaze away from the distracted nazgûl and flashed the graying Haradrim a bright smile.

"I brought them here."

"What?! Why would you do that?"

Her smile halved after registering Baranor's displeasure but hardened her disposition the moment she felt Talion's eyes burning a hole through her. The young captain held her nose high, huffing with annoyance.

"To hunt the gondorians down for what they've done, of course."

" _Why of course_."

To Ralla's absolute annoyance, Talion's voice was heavy with sarcasm, almost not being able to suppress his hopeless laughter. Talion ignored her angry complaints as he turned to Baranor and Idril.

" _As much as it pains me to say this, our main priority has to be calming down the crowds, not our rangers_."

Ralla immediately shot up from her place only to be stopped in her tracks by Idril's furious looking face.

"What are you doing? He doesn't even care about Re..."

"Do you actually believe that or do you just want somebody to blame?"

Talion turned his back to the enraged youngster as he walked tho the heavy wooden door, his voice stretching outwards without effort.

" _You will stay here. Your punishment will be decided after we calm down the citizens_."

"What I did was just! The people have the right to know these things and take revenge on those Gondorian swines! I don't deserve to be punished for that!"

Talion stopped at the threshold of the halls of healing, the usually warm and cozy room becoming cold and uninviting as if thrown into a frozen river. Maybe it was that feeling or the fact that the medwing fell into a deadly silence that, in Ralla's mind's eye, tore on the scraps of the humanity Talion had left, making him seem like a true demon. Ralla was paralyzed the moment her eyes met the fiery green pits of the nazgûl.

" _That belief is why you cannot be allowed to escape the consequences of your actions as you have before. Stay here. You will be dealt with soon enough_."

The silence persistent as Talion, Idril and Baranor left the halls, leaving the patients staring at the embarrassed and angered captain Ralla.

* * *

The crowd screamed and chanted over itself, ending up with a almost unintelligible mess of voices crushing upon Talion and his small group of emissaries like the waves of an enraged ocean upon a rocky cliffside.

Despite the citizens wielding torches and whatever sturdy household tools they took on the way to the bastion, the guards, even though not being happy about it, stood back and watched their leaders take on the mob.

Idril and Baranor were doing their best to quiet the crowd down peacefully and yet failing spectacularly. Dûsh growled quietly, moving himself between his lord and the impatient peasantry, preparing himself for a battle. He was not prepared for how tired Talion's voice seemed thought.

" _It's fine, Dûsh. They might be angry, but I sense no will for violence._ "

The orc captain, despite his discontent with the situation, nodded and made his best attempt of relaxing his posture, yet still standing between his boss and the crowd, to the apparent discontent of the nazgûl, judging by the reverbed sigh that escaped him. Dûsh knew that his growing headache was no excuse for anger, but damn that if the crowd doesn't quiet down immediately.

"Would everybody, please, just SHUT UP ALREADY?!"

Silence.

"Thank you!"

Silence once more. Though somewhat heavier.

" _Thank you for your... assistance, Dûsh. We won't be needing it further on though._ "

"Of course, boss."

Dûsh's response was short but upbeat, thanks to the fact that, despite the stone cold mask that Talion presented, the orc captain was still able to recognise amusement and suppressed laughter within the nazgûl's voice.

Talion turned to the group of about two hundred, his outer resolve hardening.

" _Please, do not talk over each other, otherwise we can't understand you. Let only one speak at a time and show your support by... I don't know... raising your hand, for example. Understood_?"

For s few moments, there was murmuring within the group, before all hands raised up.

" _Good. Now, please, tell us what has angered you enough to march upon the bastion_."

One of the citizens stepped forward, dressed in blue and brown, probably a builder. He gave Dûsh a nervous glance before looking straight at the nazgûl behind the captain, his resolve weakening a little the moment his eyes met the fiery green.

"We wish to avenge the ranges, sir, for what the gondorians did to them."

"What the gondorians... the gondorians escaped, that much we can confirm, but nothing else beyond that."

Idril's statement started another round of murmuring within the group, thought palpably less angry and more uncertain.

"Than we're allowed to go back to wisting the sick?"

" _In about two days time you will, after which we will also provide you with all the information we'll gain. I'll also be available for consultation and assistance for three days after as to compensate for my absence tomorrow."_

Another wave of murmurs washed over the crowd as the people started dispersing. 

\---

Some reassurances and last answers later, barely anybody was left within the courtyard. Idril and Dûsh went of to do how knows what which left Baranor knowing that there won't be a better moment to speak to the nazgûl and yet being utterly terrified of the prospect. It seems, however, that the world has already decided for him.

" _Baranor_."

The Haradrim gave an exhausted sigh.

"Not here. Inside."

Talion gave a nod before making his way towards his tower. Baranor stood in the fresh air, trying his best to suck up as much of the peaceful ambience of the city as possible, in preparation for the unavoidable conversation. 

The sun reached the peak of it's daily journey when the elder haradrim finally decided to face the nazgûl. His footsteps seemed to grow more menacing then ever as Baranor walked through the vast halls of the bastion. It felt like an eternity has come and gone before he finally reached the heavy doors of Talion's chambers. He half expected them to creak diabolically as he pushed them open. 

Surprisingly enough, besides Talion himself, he found Idril there as well discussing something with the fallen ranger. Their conversation came to an abrupt end as the steward of Mordor up and left the moment she spotted Baranor, only giving a short bow as the nazgûl did the same. 

There was a moment of heavy silence between the haradrim and the nazgûl as Baranor found his throat to be more sore than usual.

" _Who is she_?"

Baranor raised a brow.

"What?"

" _Ralla. Who's child is she because she most definitely didn't gain the rank of a captain without having relatives in high places. Who is she_?"

Baranor huffed.

"That's a big assumption."

" _And yet one that comes out of experience_."

Baranor finally took a seat, finding himself on the same eye-level as Talion. Not that it helped the captain.

"She only advocates we share the intelligence we gain through out this investigation instead of concealing it."

" _Yes, she and you both say so and yet all she shared with the public were rage-fueled speculations based upon something she had close to no knowledge of_."

"I'm sure she didn't mean to..."

" _She openly admitted to spreading 'her version of the truth' with violence against prisoners of war in mind_."

A heavy silence stretched between the duo, making them both unwilling to continue arguing.

" _Is she yours_?"

"No, Jagai's."

" _Good. Than she can go back to Lithlad and Serka if she wants to keep her military status_."

"What happened to the one she has here?"

" _I relieved her of it_."

Baranor's imitation of a fish seemingly didn't amuse as Talion's resolve hardened further.

"Why? Isn't that too harsh for a single misconduct?"

Talion frowned.

" _You know this isn't just because of what happened today._ "

Baranor exhaled heavily, hiding his face in the palms of his hands.

"What about the political ramifications? Her parents aren't going to..."

" _THAT... is precisely why she can't stay within the army. Her continuing to command ANY part of the forces would be seen as us valuing family connections above the hard earned right of leadership_."

"And I understand your reasoning, but leaving her as a civilian isn't going to do us any good either."

Baranor slowly looked back up only to find the same exhaustion upon Talion's face as he felt for the past few months.

" _I'm sure we'll find something for her to do without holding any active power_."

"How about you let her enlist again, not as a captain but as a low ranking soldier making her earn the title while being humbled by the process or leave on her own?"

Talion thought on the idea for a short while, making Baranor think he might refuse. The determination in those fiery pits, however, lifted his spirits almost immediately. The nazgûl nodded lightly leaning back in his chair.

" _That does sound fair. But she'll have to go through it just like everybody else does, including basic training and living within accommodations issued for the military_."

"Of course."

With Talion getting up and opening one of the windows, Baranor stood up as well aiming to leave the plane looking rooms.

" _Baranor_?"

The Haradrim in question, already holding the door handle, looked around at the nazgûl, who was now under assault of four small drakelings with another one already crawling up Baranor's tight. Talion, however, either didn't seem to notice or ignored the curious hatchlings, instead his concentrating only upon his general.

" _You did what you could to protect her. This situation is her own fault and nobody else's. Not even yours_."

Baranor simply nodded.

"Thank you."

Talion gave him a sad smile before making his way back to his desk and paperwork, ignorant of the drake hatchlings seemingly playing their version of catch in the hood of his teared up clock and on his heavily armoured shoulders. Baranor did his best to return the light smile as went out of the room and finally closed the door. He leaned against a nearby wall unhooking the drakeling off of his chest plate. The drake nestled itself in Baranor's arms, enjoying every bit of attention given. Baranor stroked it's spotted back, relaxing a little as he did so.

"Wish I actually believed that I didn't fail her."

After a few moments of silence, the drake youngling decided to climb the general and start chewing on his shoulder armour as Baranor finally decided to make his way towards the halls of healing and the unavoidable conversation with Ralla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, the Eye for an Eye part 2 is under editing right now but will be out in a day or two. Until then, I hope you have enjoyable few days :)


	11. Eye for an eye: part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for having to split this chapter into two, for some reason my word file got corrupted and apart from a few strange symbols here and there, this whole part looked as if it was written in Wingdings (it wasn't ;---; what a shame). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the rest of the chapter and the first (hopefully not last) songs of the series. All feedback is appreciated. Have a fantastic day :)

A quiet night has set upon the Gondorian war camp and every person within hated it.

Everybody knew about how their general Éowyn and the soldiers she led have been found the previous day as well as the condition and circumstances they've been found in. Despite his best efforts, Aragorn was not able to calm the growing anger of the troops towards the ruler of Mordor. To be completely honest, he could not suppress his own judgement upon the matter either.

Despite his unwillingness to judge the nazgûl without talking to him first, the dread and fear for his family and people grew with every time his thoughts strayed towards him. Even with his best efforts to think of a way how recent events could be disconnected from the black rider, the title of ruler of Mordor, the two orc corpses carrying emerald banners with a broken blade upon them and the distant cold glow within the newly recovered captive soldiers all pointed to the unnatural power the nazgûl holds.

Even Gandalf, despite knowing his decisions and convictions to be right, seemed to waver in his belief of them being just. However, he still held to them and implored Aragorn to heed them despite Celebrimbor noticing and poking at his uncertainties.

Still being haunted by the unending black of Éowyn's eyes, Aragorn let out a tired sigh, trying to let go of his anxiousness. He sat down behind his desk as he looked around his empty tent, as if trying to convince himself of his continued existence within the chaos he felt brewing on the edges of the soldiers' minds.

Aragorn lit his pipe and closed his eyes as he slowly started puffing on the Southfarting Leaf sent to him by Pippin and Marry alongside a letter from Frodo, allowing himself for a moment to get lost within his memories of his friends.

" _We truly do live in strange times_."

Celebrimbor's voice jolted the king out of the pleasant memories to the coldness that surrounded the wraith. Aragorn only had enough time to raise a brow before the elf continued.

" _One of Gondor's generals has become a victim of a strange blight, the other is overwhelmed by his grief and anger as the soldiers are falling pray to fear and paranoia all the while their king, the heir of Isildur himself, has decided to commit himself to the slow death that is smoking. Strange times indeed_."

Aragorn smirked lightly at the acerbity of the wraiths doomed attempt at lighten up the hopelessness stalking through the encampment.

"That it is. Especially with the king and his closest of commanders being advised by one of the most legendary elf kings of old."

Celebrimbor returned the king's light smile despite it not reaching his glowing eyes as sadness seemed to, at all times, lie upon them. The wraith sat down in a chair opposite Aragorn, focusing his gaze upon the flames within the ornamented stand as they filled the tent with warm light.

" _I only wish to spare you the pain of facing the darkness on your own_."

An amused and yet somehow saddened huff escaped Aragorn.

"I am fortunate enough not to be alone. Despite everybody's better judgement, my love and my friends shan't leave my side."

" _And you're very lucky to have them. That, however, is not the loneliness I had in mind_."

There was a moment of silence between the the two kings as both, just for a moment, enjoyed the warmth of the flames. Aragorn took another puff of the pipe-weed.

"You've grown close to the last of the nazgûl, haven't you?"

" _Yes, and maybe that was my mistake_."

"Would you tell me of him?"

Aragorn did not see the wraith's questioning gaze as he settled in his chair.

" _I don't see why. Despite his body still moving, the man that one fought against the darkness is long since gone, broken by the ninth_."

"And yet he wields the ring you created together. If there is even a glimmer of hope to save him left, I should like to recognise is as soon as I see it."

Celebrimbor let out a tired sigh.

" _There is no savings him... despite me wishing it be otherwise. Even before he fell to the temptation of the ninth he was full of anger. Despite my best efforts to keep him within light, he would have doomed us all just to fullfil the lust for his petty vengeance_."

Another puff of smoke left Aragorn's lungs. He could not see the wraith's face but the anger and regret was palpable in every word. The king dared not disturb the silence that stretched between them as he waited for the elf to continue.

" _I wish there was a way to make him see the light, but it is too late now. The man I once knew is gone and in his stead, a servant of a tyrant parades around wearing his face. My only wish now is to avenge him by gaining back the ring and make his remains a symbol of light_."

"I grieve with you, my lord."

The elf-lord's answer was so quiet that Aragorn almost didn't catch it.

" _Thank you_."

"Many have fallen to the darkness, but none wound us as much as those we hold dear."

" _Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course_."

Aragorn let his head fall a little to the side at the elf's answer, but shrugged the strange feeling he got off of him away. He could not blame the wraith for his coldness or his disinterest in matters of the living, everyone grieves differently after all. Instead, he just took another huff from his pipe as he left the elf-lord to his thoughts.

* * *

Minas Morgul, five days later, the evening before peace talks

* * *

Despite the beautiful night sky outside, glittering with the rare sight of a thousand lights, Talion could not help, but feel as if something was amiss. Maybe he was just tired from the three days of nonstop work.

He didn't bother to hold his breath as he submerged himself in his wooden bathtub, for a moment loosing himself to the feeling of lightness the water provided. Despite the serenity of the water, the unsettling feeling remained.

No.

Not just a feeling.

Talion immediately shot up, unmoving, as he sat up, his hair soaked, in the bathtub, listening to his surroundings. There wasn't much light to speak of as there were only two candles light within the room, both of which were on a small table, right next to his soap towels and dagger.

Talion stretched his hearing out. Despite most people only hearing the sound of water dripping off of his hair, the nazgûl could hear a lot more. Whenever he learned this before or after his death was lost to time and his fractured memory.

An annoyed huff escaped him as he leaned against the side of the tub, every reverbed word adding a new layer of irrigation to his voice.

" _Spying on naked people now, are we Ralla_?"

There was creaking of the door of his chambers followed by them slamming shut with some force. Ralla's armour clinked as she moved closer to the nazgûl. Talion did not need to see her face to know she was trying to burn a hole through him just with her angered glare.

"You wish."

" _What I wish is to have some peace, quiet and to be left alone in the evenings, but, apparently, that's too much to ask for_..."

Ralla growled. Talion grabbed a bar of soap and started cleaning his hair, trying his best to ignore the fact that, despite all her anger and disgust with him as a person and with the limited light, he could see her eyes wandering a little too low. Talion decided to break her concentration.

" _Besides intruding upon people, was there something else you wanted_?"

Ralla gave a small huff as she looked up, smiling with content.

"You're going to give me back my title as a captain."

Ralla's smile deepened at the sight of Talion's confusion.

" _No I'm not_."

"Yes, you will, or I'll just make you."

" _And how, pray tell, would you achieve such a feat_."

Ralla looked to the ground, trying to suppress her laughter before looking straight at the distracted nazgûl.

"Well, we wouldn't want everybody to know that you were Sauron's favourite whore, now would we?"

Talion prayed to all the Valar that Ralla didn't see him freeze up for a moment. Judging by her persistent smirk, she most probably did. Instead of dwelling on the fact he looked her straight in the eye, living her a light, thankful smile, his hair long since forgotten.

" _Thank you_."

Ralla's brows furrowed.

"For what?"

" _For settling down my uncertainty of the decision to demote you being unjust_."

The soldier frowned.

"It WAS unjust!"

" _Oh, was it now? Then do tell me, why did you feel the need to come here and try blackmail instead of just making your case on why you should be given your rank back_."

"Well, I was..."

" _No... stop. The moment has passed and you have sealed my judgement_."

Ralla crossed her arms, watching Talion pick up the bar of soap again.

"We'll see how the public takes to the news of our glorious leader then."

Ralla made her way to the door as Talion resumed washing himself. She only stopped when she held the door knob, looking back with absolute confusion.

"Do you truly not care?"

Talion's head fell down a little as an exhausted sigh escaped his lips.

" _What's the answer for you to leave quicker_?"

Ralla turned at the ranger with anger once more.

"All I ever wanted was the truth."

" _That's the thing that makes me so irritable with you_."

"What? That I want..."

" _No_."

Talion's head snapped at Ralla, his green eyes aflame with exhaustion and anger to the point that the Haradrim soldier took a step back. It took a second before the nazgûl settled down once more.

" _What's the point of telling you the truth if you'll just going to hide behind it? I've been raped, so what? Nothing of it can be changed_."

Silence.

"I don't hide."

The nazgûl gave a huff as he sank a little more into the water.

" _And yet your actions prove otherwise. I am particularly to blame, however, as I allowed my faith in Baranor's decision shield you from the consequences of your actions. I promise I shan't take that away from you anymore_."

Ralla huffed with annoyance as she opened the door.

"We'll see if they'll share your views after they learn of your failure."

The force with which Ralla slammed the door shut made Talion jump a little, leaving him to stare at the dark wood. He let out a shaken sigh as leaned further on the edge of the wooden bathtub, his head bending backwards, not caring about the puddle of soap water forming underneath it.

Talion closed his eyes in an attempt to, just for a moment, try and escape reality. He could not stand the silence that Ralla left behind and yet couldn't imagine facing anybody right now. A slow humming escaped his lips, quietly swirling through the air as if trying to avoid any possible listeners.

" _Et effírië,_

_nwalyanna attulien,_

_sinome maruvan,_

_ar martinyar,_

_tenn' Ambar-metta_."

After another moment of silence, Talion opened his stinging, wet eyes, surely from the soap, and returned to his task of scrubbing what filth he could off of him, still humming the melancholic melody. Needless to say that his task would have been a lot easier, if only his hands stopped shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is a rework of the oath of Elendil. Before you go after me, please realise that I was out of ideas melody-wise and this one has been stuck in my head for the past two weeks. I'll post the translation as soon as I find my notes on the chapter. Hopefully they're not corrupted.


End file.
